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MEMOIRS 



REV. JOSEPH BUCKMINSTER, D. D., 



AND OF HIS SON, 



REV. JOSEPH STEVENS BUCKMINSTER. 



BY 



ELIZA BUCKMINSTER LEE 



*# I * 



i » 



BOSTON: 

WM. CROSBY AND H. P. NICHOLS 

111 Washington Street. 

1849. 






31' 

.3' "Li 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1849. by 
Wh. Crosby and H. P. Nichols, 

in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



TKB LIBRA ft Y 
OF COMOftBM 

WASHINGTON 



CAMBRIDGE: 

M E T C A L F AND COMPANY, 

POINTERS TO THE UNIVERSITY. 



PREFACE 



It may very naturally be asked, why, if the lives of 
th: persons whose memoirs are contained in the follow- 
ing pages possessed an interest for the community, the 
silence of nearly forty years should have remained un- 
disturbed upon their memory. On the other hand, it 
may be asked, Why are the seals now broken, and the 
veil of domestic privacy withdrawn which concealed 
features composed in the unchangeable beauty of death ? 
The history of the book is simply this. About fourteen 
months ago, I was requested, by a gentleman well 
known to the literary and religious public, Rev. Dr. 
Sprague of Albany, to furnish some recollections of my 
father and brother for a work which he is preparing for 
the press, — " Annals of the American Pulpit, or Bio- 
graphical Notices of Eminent American Clergymen of 
various Denominations." 

In recurring for that purpose to letters and papers 
which had fallen into my possession as the hearts that 



IV PREFACE. 

dictated and the hands that wrote became cold in death, 
but which a sentiment, understood by every heart of 
sensibility, had suffered to remain undisturbed for so 
many years, it seemed to me, as I read them anew, that 
they contained much which should not be willingly suf- 
fered to die, — that they might teach other hearts, — 
and that, as the blessed dews and rain do not return 
merely to the fountains and rivers from which they are 
drawn, but are diffused in showers which revive distant 
places, so these letters also, intended only for private 
instruction, might counsel some other son, or encourage 
the heart of some other parent. 

In preparing the memoir of my brother, I have been 
able — through the excellent arrangement of his papers 
at the time of his death, and the almost reverential care 
of his friend, Mr. George Ticknor, to preserve even the 
smallest fragment from his pen — to present of him near- 
ly a complete autobiography. The thread with which I 
have connected the memorials from his own pen may 
seem, to those who have never heard of him, heavy and 
overcharged with eulogy, while, to the few surviving 
friends who enjoyed his intimacy, the portrait I have 
endeavoured to fill up will appear, if not incorrect in 
its outline, cold and faint in its coloring. 

The delicacy and reserve which I have felt in endeav- 
ouring to present to the public, in their true light, the 
characters of relatives so near in blood and so precious 



PREFACE. V 

to memory, has been in some degree lessened by the 
years that have removed their beloved forms from my 
sight ; but, as I have receded from them in time, I have 
been able to approach nearer to them in the true appre- 
ciation of their characters. As we look back upon the 
long past, the venerated forms of early life rise up 
again, and through the suffering of our own souls we 
come to an understanding of theirs, as the sun at last 
shines through the tears of a cloudy day, and, as it ap- 
proaches its setting, reveals those who began life with us 
in all the rainbow beauty of the morning sky. 

E. B. L. 

May 15, 1849. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 

Ancestry of Dr. Joseph Buckminster in England and in America. 1 



CHAPTER II. 

Joseph Buckminster. — Childhood. — Education and Residence, 
as Tutor, at Yale College. — Form of Religious Faith. . . 9 

CHAPTER III. 

Dr. Buckminster's Settlement in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. 

— Reminiscences of the Piscataqua Association of Ministers. 

— Their Meetings. — Missionary Magazine. — Prayer-book 

for the Use of Families 26 

CHAPTER IV. 

Portsmouth. — Peculiarity in its Early Settlement and in its So- 
ciety. — Its Wealth. —Personal Recollections. — Mrs. Tap- 
pan, Dr. Buckminster's Sister 34 

CHAPTER V. 
Marriage of Mr. Buckminster. — Character and Anecdotes of 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

Dr. Stevens. — Death of Mrs. Buckminster. — Depression of 
Spirits. — Second Marriage. — Joys and Trials 51 

CHAPTER VI. 

Early Development of the Character of his Son Joseph. — Let- 
ters between the Father and the Son. — Exeter Academy. . 67 

CHAPTER VII. 

Joseph enters College. — His Character as a Student. — Letters 
from his Father . . 83 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Joseph S. Buckminster. — Assistant in Exeter Academy. — 
Theological Studies. — Method of Study. —Letters. ... 109 

CHAPTER IX. 

Joseph's Residence at Waltham. — Theological Studies. — Cor- 
respondence with his Father upon his Religious Opinions, 
and upon his Entrance on the Ministry. — Purpose of Relin- 
quishing his Chosen Profession 126 

CHAPTER X. 

Character of Dr. Buckminster's Preaching. — Extracts from his 
Sermons. — Letters 151 

CHAPTER XI. 

Joseph S. Buckminster. — His Theological Studies. — Corre- 
spondence. — His Invitation to Brattle Street Church. — His 
Ordination 183 



CONTENTS. IX 

CHAPTER XII. 

Extracts from Sermons. — Illness. — Music. — Letters. . . . 198 

CHAPTER XIII. ' ■ 

Ordination of a Classmate. — Monthly Anthology. — Anthology 
Club. — Journal of Studies. — Letters " . . . . 220 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Journal of J. S. Buckminster in London. — Journal and Letters 
upon the Continent. . 255 

CHAPTER XV. 

Mr. Buckminster's Return to Boston. — Increased Ardor in his 
Studies. — Friendship and Attachment to Mr. Walter. — Grief 
at his Death 297 

CHAPTER XVI. 

J. S. Buckminster. — His Interest in Periodical Literature. — 
And in Sacred Literature. — Beginning of Unitarian Contro- 
versy. — Extracts from Sermons 315 -"•* 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Ordination of Mr. Parker, at Portsmouth. — Dr. Buckminster's 
Friendship for him. — J. S. Buckminster's Housekeeping with 
his Sister in Boston. — Letters from Drs. Sprague, Pierce, and 
Abbot. —Dr. Worcester 354 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Sermon on the Death of Governor Sullivan. — Letter on Duel- 



X CONTENTS. 

ling. — Bible Society. — Address before the Society of $ B K. , 
— The Athenaeum 381 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Correspondence between Dr. Bnckminster and his Daughter. — 
Remarks upon the Correspondence 414 

CHAPTER XX. 

Death of Rev. Mr. Emerson. — Appointment of J. S. Buckmin- 
ster as Lecturer upon the Dexter Foundation in Harvard Col- 
lege. — Study of German. — Intellectual Character and Hab- 
its. — Last Illness 436 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Domestic Events relating to Dr. Buckminster. — Journey to 
Connecticut. — Cheerfulness and Uninterrupted Health for 
four Years. — His last Illness, and Death. — Interment. — 
Monument. — Funeral Services at Portsmouth and Boston. — 
Reinterment and Monument of J. S. Buckminster 460 



Appendix 479 



MEMOIRS. 



MEMOIRS 



CHAPTER I. 

ANCESTRY OF DR. JOSEPH BUCKMINSTER IN ENGLAND AND IN 
AMERICA. 

The biographies of the two divines which are em- 
braced in the following pages may properly be intro- 
duced by some brief account of the ancestry from which 
they sprung. 

The name, Buckminster, as it is written by the last 
generations of the family, is supposed, by the historian 
of the town of Framingham, Massachusetts, to be an al- 
teration from Buckmaster, which he conjectures was the 
original name, as it appears written in the Colony records 
of Massachusetts, and upon deeds of the seventeenth cen- 
tury. This is a mistake. The name of " Adam Buck- 
minister," and " Roberti filii sui," appears as far back as 
A. D. 1216 in the English records in Westminster, print- 
ed by order of King William the Fourth, and the name 
is repeated with the same spelling through all the gen- 
erations of the family, till it became altered in this coun- 
try by the careless spelling of the records. This will 
not appear surprising to persons acquainted with the rec- 
ords, where are found names long honored and revered 
1 



'Z ANCESTRY OF DR. JOSEPH BUCKMINSTER 

by their descendants, altered, and even travestied in the 
most unaccountable manner. 

The first emigrant of the name of Buckminster to this 
country is said to have come from Wales, — I know not 
from what authority or tradition, but it seems unlikely ; 
for I find that in 1578, the twenty-first year of the reign 
of Elizabeth, a coat of arms was granted to William 
Buckminster, son and heir of Richard Buckminster, 
eldest son of John Buckminster of Peterborough^ and 
to all the posterity of John Buckminster for ever. 

The eldest ancestor of whom we have any knowledge 
is Thomas Buckminster, the author of an Almanac for 
the year 1599, printed in London. A copy of this 
Almanac has been preserved in the family to the present 
time. Watts, in his Bibliotheca Britannica, mentions 
" Thomas Buckminster, Minister, His Right Chris- 
tian Calendar and Spiritual Prognosticate^ for 1583 and 
1584." These are doubtless numbers of the same series 
with the Almanac just spoken of, and now before me. It 
contains a calendar, printed in red and black ink, of the 
days of the month, the signs of the zodiac, the changes 
of the moon, etc. It is a pleasant, although perhaps a 
fanciful thought, that Shakspeare himself may have re- 
sorted to one of Thomas Buckminster's Almanacs to 
see if the full moon w T ould serve for the Midsummer 
Night's Dream, written and performed between 1590 and 
1600. 

I here~copy as specimens two stanzas, which may be 
regarded as of a fair average with the wisdom and poetry 
both, contained in the copy preserved in the family. 
The calendar of each month is preceded by a stanza. 

The stanza for January is as follows : — 



IN ENGLAND AND IN AMERICA.' 3 

" If thou be sick and health would have, 
The council of the learned crave ; 
If thou have health, to keep thee so 
Flee idleness, as deadly foe." 

In June he says : — 

" Drink, new or sweet, taste not at all, 
For thereby grows no danger small ; 
And to thyself such pastime lake 

As may, in God, thee merry make." 

Thomas, the son or grandson of the almanac-maker, 
came to Boston in 1640. He was made a " freeman," 
that is, in the old meaning of the term, he joined the 
communion of a church, and received a grant of land 
valued at £10, from the General Court. He was the 
owner of a farm at Muddy River, now Brookline, where 
he died, September 20, 1656. His will, dated only a 
few days before his death, is recorded in the Suffolk 
probate-office. The will, also, of his eldest son, Law- 
rence, who returned to England, unmarried, is recorded 
in the same office. 

If we may infer any thing from the selection of 
Thomas Buckminster's farm in Brookline, he must have 
had an eye for picturesque beauty. His dwelling stood 
at the foot of wooded heights, covered with a dense 
shrubbery and fringed all up the rocky sides with delicate 
pensile branches and hanging vines. A rapid, sparkling 
brook, descending from these rocky heights, ran past his 
door, spreading out * and winding in the meadows in 
front. Jamaica Lake, a quarter of a mile distant, em- 
bosomed in beautiful undulations of hill and valley, slept 
tranquilly in full sight of the house. Our forefathers, 
probably, if they had any love, had little time to culti- 
vate a taste for beautiful scenery. With the axe on 



4 ANCESTRY OF DR. JOSEPH BUCKMINSTER 

their shoulders, or their hands upon the plough, they 
conquered the rough and sterile soil, securing those ab- 
solute necessaries of life, food and fuel, before they could 
please the eye, or indulge the love of natural beauty. 
Burns, upon the peaceful hills of Scotland, may have 
walked behind his plough in glory and in joy ; but upon 
the New England hills, at that early time, the ploughman 
must have cast many an anxious look around, lest in the 
dense -forest, closely pressing upon the field, should lurk 
the beast of prey, or the more dangerous Indian. 

Thomas Buckminster's son Joseph, the first of the 
family with that Christian name in this country, seems to 
have succeeded his father, and to have lived upon the farm 
in Brookline. His son Joseph, grandson of Thomas, was 
a man whose foot was capable of making a mark upon the 
hard New England soil. His name is first mentioned 
in 1693, when he became a pioneer in settling the town 
of Framingham, and acted an important part in the estab- 
lishment and administration of the affairs of the place. 
He was then about twenty-seven years old, with great 
physical powers, and great resolution and ardor of char- 
acter. He married at an early age Martha Sharp, the 
daughter of John Sharp, of Muddy River. After his 
removal to Framingham, he held successively all the 
offices of honor and trust in the gift of his fellow-towns- 
men. He was a selectman for- seventeen years, and a 
representative to the General Court of Massachusetts 
Colony for twelve years. He held several military com- 
missions ; was the commander of a company of grena- 
diers in Sir Charles Hobbie's regiment in the expedition 
to Port Royal, and subsequently had the command of a 
regiment of Colonial militia, which gave him the title of 
Colonel. He settled and improved the famous Brinley 



IN ENGLAND AND IN AMERICA. 5 

farm of 860 acres, of which 400 acres were under culti- 
vation. He sold it a few years before his death to 
Francis Brinley, Esq., for £8,600 in bills of public 
credit, and seems to have been involved in endless law- 
suits. His name is perpetually found in the various 
transactions of the town ; at one time, in a deed of gift 
of half an acre of ground adjoining the meeting-house 
to accommodate the work-house and school-house ; at 
another time, he is allowed to make, and to keep in or- 
der, a highway from his house to the meeting-house, and 
in consideration thereof is exempted from labor on the 
.other highways for seven years. 

At the building of the first meeting-house in Framing- 
ham, a vote was passed, that Joseph Buckminster should 
have liberty to set up a pew, upon which side of the 
great doors he pleased. As, at the same meeting, a 
committee was chosen to seat the meeting-house, — that 
is, as in early times was the custom, to assign seats ac- 
cording to age, dignity, or the rate paid, — we must infer 
that the pew was an honorable distinction, or a reward 
for services. 

At the building of'the second meeting-house, some cir- 
cumstances on record betray the character of the man, 
and may have been the origin of an expression the writer 
used to hear in childhood, of the " Buckminster spunk." 
The phrase, and the quality perhaps, have since died 
out of the family. It appears that he obstinately op- 
posed for five years the placing of the meeting-house 
upon a piece of land to which he asserted or had a 
just claim, for he dug'a cellar and drew timber upon it 
for his own use ; and when timber for the meeting-house 
was drawn upon the same land, he did not hesitate to re- 
move it. After a contest of five years, he seems to have 



b ANCESTRY OF DR. JOSEPH EUCKMINSTER 

acted generously, or it may be only justly ; the records 
merely say, that Colonel Buckminster made a proposal 
to the town to make good all the timber that he had drawn 
off. He would not be compelled, but volunteered this 
act. 

Tradition represents him as a large, athletic, and re- 
markably strong man, capable of lifting great weights and 
of carrying heavy burdens. It is said, but it seems im- 
possible, that once, upon a bet, he carried sixteen bushels 
of salt upon his shoulders. He is said to have been a 
stem and austere man, and to have ruled among the first 
settlers of Framingham with no gentle hand ; but there is 
no tradition that he was ever accused of injustice, or of 
reaping where he had not sown. He was the owner of 
several slaves ; a negro woman, named Nanny, was 
valued at his death at £ 80. 

His son Joseph, or, as he was called, the second 
Colonel, was a very different man, much beloved and re- 
spected, and filling various offices of trust and honor in 
the gift of his fellow-citizens. For twenty-eight years 
he was selectman, and held the office of town-clerk 
more than thirty years. He had the honor of represent- 
ing the town of Framingham at the General Court for 
thirty years, and died at the age of eighty-four, after a 
long life of public service and personal worth. 

There is a circumstance connected with his history 
that will be interesting to the friends of African emanci- 
pation. He was the owner of several slaves, in one of 
whom he placed implicit confidence, relying upon him in 
all delicate and confidential business, and placing in his 
fidelity, as he said, more unwavering faith than in that of 
any white man. This negro, Prince Young, was distin- 
guished for his talents and his moral qualities, his hon- 



IN ENGLAND AND IN AMERICA. 7 

esty, temperance, and prudence, and was left with the 
sole care of a great estate, and the management of a large 
farm, while his master was absent at the General Court. 

William Buckminster, the son of the above, and the 
third who held the title of Colonel, was a distinguished 
man in his day. At the age of twenty-one he removed 
to Barre, and devoted himself to the business of agricul- 
ture. He immediately gained the confidence and re- 
spect of the people. His integrity made him friends, 
and his superior understanding gave importance and con- 
sideration to his political sentiments. In the great strug- 
gle between this arid the mother country, he took a very 
warm and active part. Decisive in his measures, open 
and undisguised in his friendships, he enjoyed to an un- 
usual degree the confidence of his fellow-citizens. He 
signalized himself by his activity in providing arms and 
ammunition. The minute-men raised in Barre were 
commanded by him, and immediately after the first blood 
was shed at Lexington, he marched his company to Cam- 
bridge. He was distinguished for prudence and bravery 
at the battle of Bunker Hill ; he was on the field the 
whole day, and as the Americans were retreating he re- 
ceived a ball in the right shoulder, that came out at the 
back. Although thus dangerously wounded, he con- 
tinued in the army till the close of the war, because of 
the influence he obtained over the minds of the peo- 
ple. It was said of him, that those who knew him best 
praised him most, for his inflexible integrity and spotless 
character. 

With him the military spirit ceased, at least in this 
branch of the family. His eldest brother, son of the 
second Colonel Buckminster, was born March, 1720. 
He was the fourth Joseph in direct succession, and the 



W ANCESTRY OF DR. JOSEPH BUCKMINSTER. 

first that entered the ministry. He was educated at 
Harvard College, and received its honors in 1739. He 
was ordained at Rutland, Massachusetts, 1742, and con- 
tinued " the faithful and laborious pastor " of that church 
more than fifty years, highly respected for his usefulness, 
and deeply beloved and esteemed by his parish. Mr. 
Buckminster may be considered in some degree a her- 
etic of his day, as he entered into controversy in support 
of a mitigated form of Calvinism. He did not believe 
that the elect were elected to grace before the founda- 
tions of the world, but were elected from a fallen state, 
and that election was a remedy for an existing evil. It 
was not a part of God's original purpose, but such were 
elected as most diligently used the means of grace. The 
decrees have no direct positive influence upon men. 
They are determined by motives, but act freely and 
voluntarily. Such was his theology. 

These controversies were printed, but it must demand 
a great love of ancestral blood and an enormous amount 
of patience even to read now what at that and at re- 
moter times was the very milk upon which Christian 
babes were fed. Mr. Buckminster is called, in the theo- 
logical tracts of the time, a Sublapsarian. It is a com- 
fort to think that the thing itself is not so harsh as its 
name, for it seems an effort to soften the stern features 
of Calvinism, and to mingle a little human clay in the 
iron and granite of its image. 



CHAPTER II. 

JOSEPH BUCKMINSTER. CHILDHOOD. EDUCATION AND RE- 
SIDENCE, AS TUTOR, AT YALE COLLEGE. FORM OF RE- 
LIGIOUS FAITH. 

We come now to the first immediate subject of these 
memoirs. Joseph, the son of the Rev. Joseph Buck- 
minster, minister of Rutland, was the fourth among nine 
children. The eldest, a son, lived only a few months ; 
then followed two daughters. Joseph was born October 
3d, 1751, receiving the ancestral name, which his elder 
brother who died had also borne during the few months 
of his life. His mother was Lucy Williams, daughter 
of the Rev. William Williams, of Weston, a direct de- 
scendant, in the fourth generation, from Robert Williams, 
.of Roxbury, the common ancestor of the wide family 
of that name spread through the United States. Her 
grandfather, Rev. William Williams, of Hatfield, was 
called a man of great abilities. Her own mother was a 
daughter of Solomon Stoddard, cc that great divine, who 
was considered by many as the light of the New England 
churches, as John Calvin was of the Reformation." 

Rev. Dr. Stiles says, in reference to him, u I have 
read all Mr. Solomon Stoddard's writings, but have 
never been able to see in them that strength of genius 
some have attributed to him. Mr. Williams of Hatfield. 
his son-in-law, I believe to have been the greater man.' 1 



10 JOSEPH BUCKMINSTER. 

President Edwards calls Mr. Williams a man of " unnat- 
ural abilities," and goes on to say, — " His subjects were 
always weighty, and his manner of teaching peculiarly 
happy ; showing the strength and accuracy of his judg- 
ment, and ever breathing forth the spirit of piety and the 
deepest sense on his heart of the things he delivered." 
Jonathan Edwards was first-cousin to Mr. Buckminster's 
mother. 

Colonel William Williams, one of the first settlers of 
Pittsfield, was the maternal uncle of the subject of this 
memoir. He preserved the venerable elm-tree that has 
so long adorned the centre of that town. It stood upon 
land of which he was the owner, and one of his work- 
men had raised the axe to cut it down, when he ordered 
him to cc spare that ancient tree." Its enormous growth 
must have been the slow work of many centuries. It 
measures twenty-three feet in circumference only a short 
distance from the ground, and rises seventy-three feet 
before it puts out a single limb. 

Of the mother of Dr. Buckminster a dim and indis- 
tinct image remains in the childish memory of the writer. 
After the death of her husband, she came to spend the 
last years of her life near her son, in Portsmouth. Sh6 
was tall, with rather masculine features, and in the mind 
of the w 7 riter she has left the impression of a stern and 
rather austere nature. It is remembered that she sat 
constantly in her easy-chair, usually with a book in her 
hand, and that no noise was permitted in her presence. 
Her son, whatever were his avocations, never omitted 
visiting her a single day, and the grandchildren were often 
sent to receive her blessing. 

Descended thus, on the mother's side, from a family of 
distinguished intellect and piety, the eldest son was from 



CHILDHOOD. 11 

his birth intended for the ministry. The early years of 
his life were, however, spent in those hardy labors of 
the farm, in open country air, that are so essential to in- 
vigorate the frame and strengthen the constitution. The 
healthful breezes of the hills of Rutland must have done 
much towards expanding his vigorous frame, which was 
remarkable for its symmetrical development, for the 
ease and elasticity of all its motions, for gracefulness 
and freedom of action, which continued to distinguish 
him through life. He used to delight to tell his children 
of the country sports of his boyhood. Once, in pursuit 
of squirrels, he was lost in the forest, and, with another 
boy, slept, like the babes in the wood, upon heaped-up 
fallen leaves. The alarmed and anxious friends were all 
night in pursuit, and the boys were near perishing from 
fatigue and hunger. 

Another accident that happened in his boyhood, which 
his children often heard him refer to, made a deep im- 
pression upon his mind. He was ten years old, and 
after the labors of the hay-field, full of boyish spirits,, he 
was jumping upon the top of the loaded wain, as it was 
returning to the hay-loft. A false step threw him to the 
ground, and the wheels of the heavily laden cart passed 
directly over his neck ! He held a pitchfork in his 
hand, and it so happened that the handle of the pitchfork 
fell in exactly the position to support the wheel as it 
turned over him. This almost miraculous preservation 
made a deep impression upon his young mind, and he 
asked himself with deep earnestness for what he had been 
saved, — thus held back from the very threshold of death. 
He said to his children, that, long after, he never closed 
his eyes to sleep without a vivid remembrance of the 
emotion of that agitating moment, and that, in after life, it 
was never forgotten. 



12 EDUCATION AT YALE COLLEGE. 

His heart was very tender in his boybood. An anec- 
dote once related to his children made a strong impres- 
sion upon the writer, as a proof of that tenderness and 
susceptibility of feeling which enabled him through life to 
enter intimately into the feelings of the afflicted, and to 
be so truly a comforter to his people in his ministry. 
His elder sister married while he was yet a boy, and re- 
moved with her husband to the then remote region of 
Ohio. This separation, the first breach in the family 
circle, was so deeply felt by the young Joseph, that he 
spent the whole day after her departure alone in the 
hay-loft, weeping bitter tears, unable to eat, and refusing 
to be comforted. 

I am not acquainted with the place or the manner in 
w r hich Dr. Buckminster's preparatory studies were com- 
pleted, but at the age of fifteen he entered Yale College. 
It was probably through the influence of his mother's 
relatives, the Williamses and Stoddards, that he received 
his education at New Haven, rather than at Cambridge, 
as his father had been a son of Harvard. He was not 
repelled from Harvard College because it was of a more 
liberal theology ; for even had it been so, his father, as we 
have seen, was not one of the strictest among Calvinists. 
His maternal uncle, the Rev. Elisha Williams, had been 
Rector of Yale College not many years previous, and 
this circumstance may have decided for him. 

A contemporary testifies, that, while an undergraduate, 
he was distinguished for the sweetness of his disposition, 
for his exemplary moral deportment, and as one of the 
best linguists in his class. He was a very accomplished 
Latin scholar, and continued through life to write in that 
language almost as readily as in English. Many of his 
familiar letters to his son are written in Latin. His love 



EDUCATION AT YALE COLLEGE. 13 

for classical studies was hardly impaired amid the ar- 
duous duties of his profession. Although devoted by 
inclination and duty to the studies connected with his 
sacred office, and engaged heart and soul by preference 
for the Bible, yet Virgil and Cicero continued to lie 
upon his study table. He was in the habit of addressing 
familiar questions and simple household orders to his 
daughters in Latin, and then of explaining them or giving 
them the dictionary to find them out ; thus a few Latin 
sentences became quite familiar to them. 

In 1770, Joseph Buckminster received the honors of 
the bachelor's degree, and was one of the three most distin- 
guished and accomplished scholars who were chosen upon 
the Berkeley foundation to continue three years longer 
at the College, pursuing such studies as they might select 
for themselves, all expenses being paid by the fund pro- 
vided for that purpose. u That he devoted himself to 
theological studies," says a son of Yale, u must have 
been from a high spirituality of feeling, as the religious 
state of the College was very low at that period." There 
were also prizes provided by the Berkeleian fund for dis- 
tinction in certain studies. " The Dictionary of Arts and 
Sciences," in four quarto volumes, was the prize adjudged 
to him, and always remained upon the shelves of his 
library. 

The advantages of these three years of added study 
must have been in proportion to the merit by which they 
were obtained ; and among the names of those who suc- 
ceeded to this distinction, we find some of the most 
honored of our country. Silas Deane, the Hon. Abra- 
ham Hillhouse, and Stephen Mitchell preceded him, and 
among bis contemporaries were President Dwight and the 
Hon. John Davenport. Both of the last were his warm 
2 



14 EDUCATION AT YALE COLLEGE. 

personal friends, whose attachment continued through 
life. Both visited the humble parsonage of their fellow- 
student within the memory of the writer ; the one accom- 
panied by his son, the other by his wife. To her inex- 
perience of life the one appeared to possess the lofty 
politeness, the priestly dignity, of the Bishop of London, 
as made known by the pen of Hannah More ; the other 
resembled the only hero of romance then familiar to her 
imagination, Sir Charles Grandison. 

The epic bards of our country, Barlow, Trumbull, 
and Dwight, were also fellow-students and personal friends 
of Mr. Buckminster. Numerous copies of the epics of 
these poets, the Vision of Columbus and the Conquest 
of Canaan, w T ere arranged upon the study shelves of 
their friend, probably subscription copies, remaining from 
year to year in undisturbed quiet. If a child, prompted 
by curiosity, opened a volume, the unattractive page was 
restored again to its repose, there to gather the dust of 
age ; but there is no old mortality that can ever conse- 
crate and make venerable poetry that has in itself so little 
merit. 

The three years of literary instruction for which Dr. 
Buckminster was indebted to Bishop Berkeley demand a 
tribute of gratitude from one so nearly connected with 
him. According to every account that has come down 
to- us, Bishop Berkeley was one of the noblest and purest 
of the benefactors of the human race. Pope's ascrip- 
tion, "To Berkeley every virtue under heaven," however 
comprehensive, is too general to give a true idea of the 
refined spirituality of his mind, the benignity and disin- 
terested generosity of his disposition. 

It is one of the most singular coincidences of literary 
history that Bishop Berkeley should have derived a large 



EDUCATION AT YALE COLLEGE. 15 

part of his fortune from Mrs. Vanhomrigh, the cele- 
brated Vanessa so long attached to Dean Swift. She 
removed to Ireland for the purpose of enjoying the soci- 
ety of the person for whom she cherished the most sin- 
gular attachment. But finding herself totally neglected, 
and suspecting Swift's connection with Stella, she was so 
wounded or enraged that she altered her intention of 
making him her heir, and left the whole of her property 
to two gentlemen, one of whom was Bishop Berkeley, 
then nearly a total stranger to her. Thus from the 
caprice of a woman resulted a singular good-fortune to 
many of the other sex, even more remotely strangers to 
Vanessa than was the original legatee. 

Bishop Berkeley was most unostentatious in his be- 
nevolence, doing good by stealth, and blushing to find it 
fame. His first object, that to which he devoted all his 
energies, was the promotion of education in t e New 
World. For this purpose, he resigned the Deanery of 
Derry, worth £1100 a year, to dedicate the remainder 
of his life, with only a salary of a hundred pounds yearly, 
to the instruction of the youth of America. Such was 
the eloquence of this enthusiast, that he persuaded three 
of the fellows of Trinity College to embark their fortunes 
with him, and to give up all their prospects of preferment 
at home for the small salary of £ 40 on this side of the 
Atlantic. He intended to establish a college in what 
were called the Summer Isles, # Bermuda being the 
island chosen for its location. 

The project of a college in Bermuda failed, but Bishop 
Berkeley, as is well known, came to Newport in Rhode 
Island, where he purchased a country seat and cultivated 

* So called in the Life of Berkeley. 



16 TUTOR AT NEW HAVEN. 

a farm, waiting for the fulfilment of bis contracts about 
the college. These failing, he returned, with deep dis- 
appointment, to England, and sent from thence a deed of 
his valuable farm in Rhode Island to Yale College, the 
rents of which were appropriated to the support and 
instruction of the three best scholars in Greek and Latin, 
selected from each class as it graduated, who must reside 
at the College at least nine months of the three succes- 
sive years, as a condition of the bounty. 

At the close of the three years of study, Dr. Buckmin- 
ster was appointed tutor, and held the office four years. 
Dr. D wight was fellow-tutor with him for nearly the 
whole of the period. The same contemporary referred 
to above says, — " He was much esteemed by his brothers 
in office, and was universally beloved and respected by 
the young gentlemen who had the happiness to be under 
his instruction." The year before his connection with 
the College, as tutor, ceased, in consequence of the agi- 
tated state of the country and the dangers to which the 
seaports were subjected, the institution was disbanded, 
and the students scattered in various places, each class 
under the direction of its respective tutor. 

I regret that so few anecdotes of this interesting period 
of his life remain in my memory. He was not in the 
habit of talking much of his early life, and I had not 
reached that period when we begin to look back, and 
when, the present not sufficing for the wants of the soul, 
we wish to learn from the experiences and the trials of 
those who have gone before us. 

Thus eleven years of a life not very long in its whole 
duration were spent in New Haven. An attachment to 
Alma Mater, to the town of New Haven, and to Con- 
necticut itself, was formed, that lasted through life. He 



TUTOR AT NEW HAVEN. 17 

was often beard to say, — cc My place was there. I always 
wished that State to be my home, but Providence has 
directed my line of duty far away from the place of my 
first affections. " The limited salary of a clergyman, 
and the large family, more than usually thrown upon the 
father's care, rarely allowed him the recreation of a jour- 
ney. Four years before his death, when the failing health 
of one of his children seemed to impose it as a duty, a 
journey to New Haven was a bright interval between the 
cares of life, a season of uninterrupted cheerfulness. 
The companion of that journey had till then never known 
of what cheerfulness, even gayety, her father's spirits 
were susceptible, as when expanding at the meeting of 
old friends, renewing youthful reminiscences with class- 
mates, recalling half- forgotten college anecdotes, and re- 
viving all those care-free associations that make of college 
days an oasis left in the far-off pathway of life. 

Dr. Buckminster's whole residence at New Haven 
was during the Presidency of Dr. Daggett. The coun- 
try was agitated by the intense excitement of the war of 
the Revolution, and the College partook of the distress 
that marked the beginning and progress of that fearful 
conflict ; circumstances ill adapted to the quiet of literary 
pursuits. Yet there was no period in the history of the 
College more fruitful in eminent men in every department 
of wisdom, and the classes of 1777 and 1778 were much 
larger than those of the previous years, and contained a 
large proportion of men distinguished in the councils of 
the nation and famous in the annals of science. 

During the time of his residence at New Haven, he 

passed through a season of deep mental distress, under 

conviction of his great sinfulness, and sank almost entirely 

into a state of despair. In a person of such deep and 

2 * 



18 CONVERSION. 

tender sensibility, his suffering must have been much ex- 
aggerated by his tendency to nervous depression ; and it 
must always be difficult to discriminate how much of this 
distress arises from the real state of the heart, and how 
much from the imagination and a morbid self-condemna- 
tion. The mysteries of the soul must be left to be 
judged by the great' Source of all spiritual illumination. 
In the words of a contemporary, "As he obtained a glo- 
rious hope, and passed from death to life, he determined 
to consecrate his time, his talents, and his acquirements 
to the interest and cause of the Redeemer. He read 
the whole of Turretinus in the original, with great satis- 
faction "; and it was then that he drew up the confession 
of faith and form of self-dedication that follows, and 
decided to devote the whole strength of his mind to 
preparing himself for that profession which became the 
dearest object and the ultimate cause of the most intense 
devotion of his life. 

I seem almost to wrong Dr. Buckminster in saying 
that the ministry was his profession. It was his life. 
The cause of his Master was his own cause. He con- 
sidered the office of a minister, a preacher of the word 
of life, the most honorable in the world ; and that the 
learning, the talents, the acquirements of the most gifted 
minds w T ere all too little to be devoted to its interests. 
To spend and be spent in the cause of religion were 
words often in his mouth, and the most devoted purpose 
of his life. His religious convictions and his religious 
studies resulted in the following form of faith, as the 
reader will perceive, wholly Calvinistic. At the time 
when he settled at Portsmouth, it was not asked if a min- 
ister were orthodox, but only if he were sincere and 
devout. There is some reason to believe, that, at the 



FORM OF RELIGIOUS FAITH. 19 

time he settled, or soon afterward, his views were some- 
what modified ; but like his honored predecessor whom 
he immediately succeeded, " his heart was of no sect." 

" I believe that there is a God, subsisting in three persons, 
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, possessing all perfection ; infi- 
nitely holy, just, wise, and powerful ; true, gracious, and com- 
passionate ; in whom alone every thing that is amiable and 
lovely centres, and from whom the happiness of reasonable 
creatures must proceed. That this God made all worlds, and 
rules and governs them by his power and providence, so that 
the smallest event does not happen but by his permission. 
That he brought man into being, formed after his image, and 
capable of knowing and loving and enjoying God, and of ren- 
dering him that honor and glory which was his due. That 
God entered into covenant with this first man, and, in him, 
with his posterity : the conditions of this covenant were, that, 
if he continued in his allegiance, and abstained from the fruit 
of a particular tree, (which was denied him as a test of his 
obedience,) he and his posterity should be confirmed in life ; 
but that the day he ate thereof he should surely die, — he, 
and his posterity in him. 

" But man broke this covenant, and exposed himself and 
his posterity to the threatened punishment, lost the original 
rectitude of his nature, and became the instrument of com- 
municating a corrupt nature to his descendants. In this 
state God might have left him to suffer the wages of his folly. 
But God, who exalted himself to show mercy, having from 
all eternity chosen some of this fallen race to salvation, 
through sanctification of the spirit and belief of the truth, did 
disclose a way in which his broken law might be repaired, 
his justice satisfied, and the offenders saved ; (but, as a God 
was offended, so a God must suffer.) The second person in 
the sacred Three, the eternal Son of God, voluntarily offered 
to stand in man's stead, and suffer the punishment which he 



'■20 FORM OF RELIGIOUS FAITH. 

had merited. He is accepted by the Father, and, upon con- 
dition that he satisfied the demands of justice, it was prom- 
ised that he should bring those to the enjoyment of God who 
were from all eternity chosen by him. 

" I believe that this Divine person, when the time appoint- 
ed came, descended to this world, took human nature, and 
was born of the Virgin Mary, without sin. That he perfect- 
ly obeyed the law of God, and, suffering the penalty of man's 
sin, was crucified by the Jews ; that he died, was buried, and 
on the third day rose again, and ascended into heaven ; re- 
ceived the approbation of his Father, and is seated at his right 
hand. 

" I believe that this same Jesus shall come again to judge 
the world, attended with his holy angels, and that all those 
that have ever lived, together with those who shall be then 
found alive, shall be summoned before his bar, to receive 
according to the deeds done in the body. And, according 
as they are found to have accepted the mercy offered in 
the Gospel, and have thereby become interested in the right- 
eousness of Christ, or to have despised this mercy and ob- 
tained no interest in this righteousness, so they shall be re- 
ceived to everlasting happiness, or be thrust down to ever- 
lasting misery, in the place where the worm dieth not and 
the fire is not quenched. 

" I believe that all mankind are naturally in a state of 
death ; that they have an aversion to God and his law ; that 
the seeds of evil lie in the heart, and that it is owing to the 
restraining grace of God that they do not break forth in 
gross acts of impiety; that unless man is recovered from 
this state, and his temper and disposition entirely changed, 
he never can see the kingdom of God. 

" I believe that man is absolutely unable to produce this 
change ; that it is the work of the Spirit to renew and change 
the heart, to bring sin to remembrance, and to discover to 
the mind its deformity and lead to godly sorrow, which works 



FORM OF RELIGIOUS FAITH. 21 

repentance unto life, never to be repented of: yet it is the 
duty of all persons to strive to obtain this change, and wait 
upon God in all his institutions ; as it is in this way that 
grace is most commonly bestowed, faith coming by hearing, 
and hearing by the word of God. 

" I believe that it is by faith alone that we become inter- 
ested in the righteousness of Christ, and entitled to the bene- 
fits of his purchase ; that this faith is the gift of God, and 
not given on account of any merit in the recipient, but of the 
free mercy and grace of God ; and that this faith does not 
entitle to salvation on account of any merit that there is in 
it: the righteousness of Christ is the only ground of justifica- 
tion, and the meritorious cause of our acceptance with God ; 
but this faith is the means of our becoming interested in this 
righteousness, and a qualification that must be found in us in 
order to our being accepted. 

" I believe that those who are once savingly illumined, and 
brought home to God by his blessed Spirit, and have been 
led to embrace Christ in the arms of faith, and love and trust 
his merits for their pardon, justification, and complete salva- 
tion, shall never fail of it ; but He that hath begun a good 
work in them shall carry it on till the day of judgment, nor 
shall any thing pluck them out of his hand. 

" I believe that God is willing to receive into covenant with 
him all those who have been his enemies, and who, like the 
prodigal son, have spent their living in riot and debauchery, 
if they sincerely repent, hate their former conduct, and turn 
unto God with their whole heart. Whosoever cometh unto 
me, saith our Saviour, I will in no wise cast out. , 

" Under a full and firm persuasion of these things, I, who 
acknowledge myself the greatest of sinners, having offended 
my Maker, reproached my Redeemer, and grieved his Holy 
Spirit, — yet knowing that God delighteth not in the death of a 
sinner, but woufd rather that he should turn from his wicked 
way and live, forsake his own thoughts, and turn unto the 



22 FORM OF RELIGIOUS FAITH. 

Lord, who hath promised that he will have mercy, and to our 
God, who will abundantly pardon, — desiring to rely upon the 
great propitiatory sacrifice through the Lord Jesus Christ for 
acceptance, — I would now in the most solemn manner, in 
the presence of God and of the holy angels, dedicate and de- 
vote myself to God with all that he hath been pleased to be- 
stow upon me, or shall permit me hereafter to enjoy, know- 
ing that other lords have had dominion over me, and that 
I have served other gods. I desire now to renounce them 
all and avow the Lord Jehovah, the Father, Son, and Holy 
Ghost, to be my God and portion ; giving myself up to the 
Father, as my Creator, who gave me every thing I pos- 
sess, who hath watched over me all my life, and with a lib- 
eral hand hath dispensed his favors, praying that he would 
consecrate to himself all the ability I have to serve him, 
whether natural or acquired. I would give myself up to the 
Lord Jesus Christ, as to my glorious and exalted Redeemer, 
through whom alone there is hope of salvation, and, renoun- 
cing all my own works as filthy rags, would trust solely and 
entirely to his righteousness as the meritorious cause of my 
justification and acceptance with God ; in which I hope to 
be interested by its being freely imputed to me, which God 
of his own mercy shall be pleased to bestow upon me. I 
would give up myself to the Holy Ghost, as my sanctifier, 
enabling me to hate, loathe, and abhor sin, and to flee from it, 
shunning the least appearance of evil. I would give up my- 
self to the sacred Three in One, and One in Three, as to that 
Being who has the sole right and title to me. I would re- 
ceive the word of God as the rule of my conduct, and believe 
whatever God hath said, though it be above my comprehen- 
sion, knowing that what God hath said is true, though finite 
capacity cannot say how. I would trust to God for spiritual 
illumination, that I may be able to understand spiritual things, 
and to receive instruction from him with respect to what I 
ought to believe and practise. 



NERVOUS DEPRESSION. 23 

" Knowing my proneness to transgress and disobey the 
commands of God, the temptations that attend me, both with- 
in and without, from my own wicked heart and the subtle 
adversary of souls, I would exercise all watchfulness over 
myself, but trust solely to the Captain of my salvation to 
secure me from falling, to enable me to conquer all my 
spiritual enemies, and to resolve, by his grace assisting me, 
I will maintain a constant fight with every indwelling cor- 
ruption, and walk in all the commandments and ordinances 
of the Lord, and place a double guard against those sins to 
which I am most inclined. 

" And now, O that the merciful God, who is a God of 
compassion, and who delighteth not in the death of a sinner, 
would accept of me as his unworthy servant, and make me 
one of his family ; grant me the spirit of adoption, and ratify 
in heaven what I have attempted to do on earth ; make me 
sincere and steadfast in this covenant, that this transaction 
may be remembered with joy and not with regret, when I 
shall stand before his righteous tribunal ! Then may it not 
be an aggravating circumstance in my condemnation that I 
have dealt deceitfully with God, or forgotten this covenant 
of my youth. Joseph Buckminster." 

It was at this period of Dr. Buckminster's life that he 
suffered the first attack of mental despondency, a form 
of nervous disease which followed him at intervals, with 
greater or less severity, through the whole of his life. 
This moral depression, or spiritual darkness, often whol- 
ly unattended by mental delusion, which has been thought 
to be occasioned by gloomy views of religion, is now 
universally admitted by men of medical science to be 
induced by some impenetrable derangement of the del- 
icate structure of the nerves. Religion, which should 
ever be the fountain of joy and happiness, is relieved 



24 NERVOUS DEPRESSION. 

from the unjust suspicion of being the parent of gloom 
and melancholy. 

Such disease is now better understood than it was fifty 
years ago, but it still defies the scrutiny of the most saga- 
cious science, and the alleviation of the most tender hu- 
manity. The mind and the body partake equally of the 
depression ; the former loses its energy, and the latter 
becomes emaciated and weak. But, while the delusion 
of imaginary infirmity is so strong, the patient is often 
relieved by the reality. A serious attack of illness, or 
a certain degree of criminality, could it be attached to 
the conscience, would alleviate the imaginary ills of the 
victim ; but alas ! this insidious enemy preys upon con- 
sciences of the purity of childhood, and health often 
robust and vigorous. The imagination usually fixes upon 
persona] unworthiness, and exaggerates venial offences 
into the darkest crimes, charging the innocent con- 
science with every species of offence, with every imag- 
inable sin, till it is persuaded of its irreparable condition. 
To them, the door of pardon is for ever closed ; hope 
never comes to them, that comes to all beside. At the 
same time, the victim's demands upon himself are of the 
most inexorable severity, while the will is prostrate and 
powerless to perform, and, the imagination cruelly excited 
at the disparity between the demand and the performance, 
the reason sinks before it, and the victim is overwhelmed 
with despair. At this stage of the disease, he can see 
no relief but in death, upon which the most timid spirit 
often rushes with frantic eagerness. The young, whose 
prospects are cloudless, and upon whose life has fallen 
no shade of sorrow, are often the prey of this nameless 
misery. Let them, if possible, not despair. Time, the 
healer of the heaviest real sorrows, is no less merciful in 



NERVOUS DEPRESSION. 25 

his ministrations to the wounded spirit ; and the time will 
assuredly come, when they will look back upon this afflic- 
tion as upon the morning clouds that have rolled away 
and left the dew of their youth bright upon them. 

Cowper, from his exquisite gifts and the singular puri- 
ty of his life, has been the most prominent example of 
this unhappy malady ; and experience has shown, that 
the most delicate organizations, consciences of the most 
tender susceptibility, whose purity has never been stained 
by an unjust deed or a guilty thought, are the most liable 
to this fear of personal unworthiness, that will shut them 
for ever from the presence of God. 

In Cowper, as in many others, the innocent and tender 
spirit was entangled in the sombre and gloomy tenets that 
have been engrafted upon the mild and love-speaking 
doctrines of Jesus, and from this reason, perhaps, religion, 
or ascertain form of religious faith, has been assigned as 
the unhappy cause of this form of nervous disease ; but 
every form of faith may be equally charged, and equally 
exonerated from the charge. The Catholic, — who in- 
vests his confessor or his saint with the responsibility of his 
conscience, — the Unitarian, and the Universalist have 
no immunity from the delusions of the imagination, or the 
dominion of this giant of despair. Appeals to the reason 
and to the conscience, the soothing voice of friendship 
and love, the administration of the tenderest consolations, 
do but strengthen the bands of their wretchedness. Let 
not these delusions of the afflicted spirit be charged upon 
any form of that blessed religion whose spirit in all its 
applications is the consoler and strengthener of the heart 
of man. 

3 



CHAPTER III. 

DR. BUCKMINSTER's SETTLEMENT IN PORTSMOUTH, NEW HAMP- 
SHIRE. REMINISCENCES OF THE PISCATAQUA ASSOCIA- 
TION OF MINISTERS. — THEIR MEETINGS. — MISSIONARY 
MAGAZINE. PRAYER-BOOK FOR THE USE OF FAMILIES. 

Having received a unanimous invitation from the 
parish, Dr. Buckminster was ordained over the North 
Church in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, January 27, 
1779. He succeeded two distinguished pastors, Drs. 
Langdon and Stiles, who had been successively removed 
to become presidents, the one of Harvard, the other of 
Yale College. They were both remarkable men, and 
Dr. Stiles, the immediate predecessor of Dr. Buckmin- 
ster, was one of the most learned scholars in the country. 
In the words of Dr. Channing, " This country has not, 
perhaps, produced a more learned man, and his virtues 
were proportioned to his intellectual acquisitions. In his 
faith he was a moderate Calvinist ; but his heart was of 
no sect. He carried into his religion the spirit of liberty 
that then stirred the whole country." In some respects, 
it must have been a great advantage to have had such 
predecessors, but it must also have taxed all the energies 
of mind and heart of the young pastor to fill the place, 
to sustain the rank and to meet the expectations of a 
parish accustomed to the ministrations of these honored 
men. Dr. Stiles was, besides, fifty years old when 



SETTLEMENT IN PORTSMOUTH. 27 

installed at Portsmouth, and had been a settled pastor 
at Newport twenty-two years. Mr. Buckminster was 
twenty-eight, and the previous eleven years had been 
spent in the seclusion of a college life. 

Portsmouth had always been distinguished by its liber- 
ality of spirit, and its generosity to its ministers. Before 
Dr. Stiles arrived among them, the parish had thoroughly 
furnished a good house for his reception. He remained 
scarcely a year, and the young pastor, being single, need- 
ed no such expensive preparation ; but he was received 
with a warmth that s»on rose to enthusiasm. He was 
endowed with natural gifts that eminently fitted him for 
the pulpit. His voice was strong and musical, and pos- 
sessed the peculiarity that its lowest tones were singularly 
clear, and could be distinctly heard in the remotest cor- 
ner of the vast meeting-house, with its two galleries. He 
took a prominent part in the singing. His voice could 
always be distinguished in the full choir by its purity and 
bell-like, silver sound ; and he delighted, in the absence 
of the ladies of the choir, to take the contralto part. 
His appearance in the pulpit was most dignified and 
graceful ; and when we add to the fervor and glow of his 
devotions, that his whole manner was penetrated by a 
peculiar pathos, a deep feeling, that illumined his counte- 
nance and trembled in the earnestness of his voice, it is 
not surprising that no one who ever saw him in the pulpit 
could forget the impression he made. There, too, was 
his chief joy, his most exhilarating duty. "He prefer- 
red the dust of Zion to the gardens of Persia, and the 
broken walls of Jerusalem to the palaces of Shushan:" 

There were many circumstances connected with his 
settlement in Portsmouth that were important to his use- 
fulness, and agreeable in their influence ; others, that de- 



'28 PISCATAQUA ASSOCIATION 

termined the color of his life and wove the whole web of 
his joys and sorrows. Among the former was the char- 
acter of the surrounding ministers, with whom many of 
his social hours were spent, and who, in the language of 
sympathy, "strengthened his hands and encouraged his 
heart." In this connection, we must speak of the Pis- 
cataqua Association of Ministers, of whom it has lately 
been said, that "they were almost all of them picked 
men ; such as now would only be found in metropolitan 
parishes. They were sufficient, each of himself, to give 
a name and a character to the town which enjoyed his 
services, and to attract to his parsonage the most distin- 
guished men in every walk of life." The same eloquent 
writer adds, that " they solved in practice the problem 
of which the key is now lost, that of harmony of spirit 
and cordial cooperation amongst ministers of widely dif- 
ferent creeds." * They were, indeed, what they called 
each other, a band of " brothers." The above remarks 
were no doubt made with some reference to the state of 
the country, the estimation in which ministers were held, 
and the influence they exerted in the last century. There 
is, no doubt, a much higher degree of intellectual culture 
among ministers at the present day, but the range of 
country in which the " Piscataqua Association " was 
found had a much greater relative importance at that 
time ; and in some instances the ministers were deemed 
fit for more brilliant stations. The singular fact, that four 
of the "Piscataqua Association" were chosen to be 
presidents of colleges, proves that they were appreciated ; 
— Dr. Langdon and Dr. Stiles, Dr. Appleton, and Dr. 



* Rev. A. P. Peabody, of Portsmouth, in the Christian Examiner 
for May, 1848, Vol. IX. No. III., Fourth Series. 



OF MINISTERS. 29 

Stevens, of Kittery Point. The latter was chosen by 
the Fellows of Harvard College in 1769, but being sus- 
pected of a leaning to the mother country in the approach- 
ing contest, the appointment was not confirmed by the 
Overseers. 

The monthly meetings of the Association were sea- 
sons of really cordial fellowship, and of social and animat- 
ed intercourse, and were made the medium of religious 
instruction to their respective parishes. Their usual 
course was to meet successively at each brother's house 
at ten o'clock in the forenoon ; those who lived at the 
distance of ten or fifteen miles, in those days of slow 
travelling and country roads, were obliged to come the 
previous evening. There w r as a religious service in the 
meeting-house, beginning at eleven, at which the exer- 
cises were assigned in rotation, or were appointed by the 
brother at w T hose house they met. The dinner, after- 
wards, was a truly social repast, where wit, and freedom, 
and a moderate degree of gayety prevailed. Clergymen, 
when their labors are over, enjoy more entirely than any 
other class of men the agreeable relaxation that follows, — 
agreeable in kind, in its allowances, and in its restraints. 

It must not be supposed that the demands of twelve 
or eighteen ministers and their horses upon their broth- 
er's oats, and upon the exertions of the family to prepare 
a suitable dinner, were either light or trifling. In the 
writer's recollection, the festival of ministers' 1 meeting 
holds the same honorable place as to sumptuousness and 
variety of viands with the more rare ordination or the 
annual thanksgiving ; and I believe the wives of the min- 
isters used devoutly to pray that their meeting might 
not be in the winter. 

Of the older members of the Association, Drs. Ste- 
3* 



3 I PISCATAQUA ASSOCIATION 

Fens, Haven, and M'Clintock, only a faint and indistinct 
image remains in the memory of the writer. Of the 
others, it is not invidious to say that Dr. Appleton, after- 
wards President of Bowdoin College, and Mr. Buck- 
minster were the animating soul. Nearly all the others 
were obliged, like Paul, from the inadequacy of their 
support from their parishes, to labor with their hands at 
some other calling. The manse of each was the home 
of all, and in those days, when the door was fastened only 
with a simple latch, the situation of the prophet's chamber 
was so familiar to the feet of the brethren, that, if one 
arrived after the family had retired for the night, he found 
his way to it, and the first indication the family had of a 
guest was his appearance at breakfast the next morning. 
In nearly all of them there was a marked individuality 
of character that would have furnished rich materials for 
the pen of Scott. The Rev. Joseph Litchfield was set- 
tled over a little village of fishermen, and his appearance, 
at least, was that of a pilot who had weathered a hun- 
dred storms. He was welcome to every fireside for the 
quaint and graphic simplicity of his language, and emi- 
nently liked in the pulpit by the younger members of the 
family for the extreme brevity of his sermons ; which 
sermons were always begun and finished by lamp-light on 
Saturday evening. The praise of brevity could not be 
given to the sermons of the Rev. Huntington Porter, 
from Rye, close upon the sea. There was an aridity 
in the sermons and in the aspect of the preacher, that 
bore as strong a resemblance to the sand upon the sea- 
shore as the Rev. Mr. Litchfield's did to the calling of 
his flock. They were both like those wholesome fruits 
whose mellow and sweet qualities are covered with a 
rough and husky rind. Mr. Litchfield's prayers, made 



OF MINISTERS. 31 

up of quotations of the highly figurative language of 
Scripture, never varied ; if he had been cut short in any 
part of them, the youngest of his hearers could have taken 
up the strain and gone on to the end. 

Those ministers who were settled in the parishes upon 
the borders of the sea, whose hearers were part fisher- 
men, part agriculturists, were eminently practical men ; 
they were teachers and pioneers for both worlds, and 
they seemed to enjoy " the blessings of heaven above, and 
the blessing of the deep that lieth under ; the dew of the 
mountains, and the riches of the deep that coucheth be- 
neath"; for many of them died comparatively rich, even 
in the goods of this world. 

There is an anecdote told of one of the Piseataqua 
Association, who, addressing a society of fishermen, 
wished to adapt his discourse to the understanding of his 
hearers. He inquired, " Supposing, in a northeast 
storm, you should be taken short in the bay, your hearts 
trembling with fear, and nothing but death before you, 
whither would your thoughts turn ? to whom would you 
fly ? " One of the hearers, arrested by the description, 
cried out, " Why, in that case, I should hoist the fore- 
sail and scud away for Squam." 

The Rev. Mr. Chandler, of Elliot, taught his parish 
how to turn the waste places, literally, into a garden, and 
to make the desert blossom as the rose. He was the 
first who supplied the Portsmouth market with vegeta- 
bles. He taught the women to be the best of husband- 
mew, to work double tides, with the hoe and the oar ; 
and withal, he contrived to bring an unusual degree of 
refinement for the time and place into his parish, and to 
cultivate the best affections of his people. The moral 
soil kept pace with the natural, and while this portion of 



3'2 PISCATAQUA ASSOCIATION 

the shores of the Piscataqua was distinguished for its 
deeper verdure, its richer foliage, the people were re- 
markable for the courtesy of their manners and the hon- 
estv of their dealings. The wives of the fishermen were 
the market-women of Portsmouth. There was a small 
market-house where they assembled after having made 
fast the boats which they rowed with their own hands, 
and then dispersed themselves, with their wares, through 
the town. 

There were families that had been furnished by the 
selfsame women long years, from blooming youth to 
wrinkled age, with eggs, berries, chickens, spun yarn, 
knitted stockings, &c, coming as regularly as the Satur- 
day came, till a bond of mutual dependence w T as formed ; 
and the familiar face that had been comely in youth con- 
tinued to them the same, although to strangers it assumed 
the witch-like appearance of Meg Merrilies. 

One more of the Association, so familiar and honored 
in the youth of the writer, shall be mentioned. The Rev. 
Jacob Abbot, of Hampton Falls, was a man of extreme 
sensibility, and of an inequality of temperament which sub- 
jected him to alternate seasons of dejection and exhilara- 
tion. His countenance immediately betrayed which state 
of feeling predominated, and all his services, even in the 
pulpit, partook of the variableness of his temperament. 
He was dear to children and young people, from the 
tender and familiar interest he felt in their improvement. 
He was always a welcome guest, from his delicate fear 
of giving trouble ; and as he continued a more intimate 
intercourse with Massachusetts, and the literary and polite 
world there, than some others of the Association, his 
conversation was more rich and varied, and more enter- 
taining to the young. 



OF MINISTERS. 33 

As has been said above, these ministers differed wide- 
ly in their religious views ; between the two extremes of 
the strict Calvinist and the believer in universal salva- 
tion was included among them every shade of Protestant 
faith. Although their opinions were freely discussed in 
these meetings, they do not appear in any offensive 
prominence in the two publications they put forth, the 
Missionary Magazine and the Piscataqua Prayer-Book, 
but were merged in the great object of their writing and 
their preaching, to turn sinners to God by faith in Jesus 
Christ, and to produce virtuous and holy lives. 

The Piscataqua Missionary Magazine was a boon in 
their families. Like the new year's almanac, it was read 
from the first page to the last, — most gratefully, if it 
contained an " entertaining anecdote " ; and news of even 
missionary proceedings was read with avidity, at a time 
when there was no yellow, nor blue, nor brown-covered 
literature to fill up the Sunday hours that were not spent 
in the sanctuary. 

The other publication was " A Prayer-Book for the 
Use of Families," in which the address to heads of fami- 
lies was written by Dr. Buckminster. There is in this 
such a remarkable absence of sectarianism^ and such a 
unity of spirit, that all the prayers seem to have proceeded 
from one mind and one heart, together with a simplicity of 
faith and expression that could be understood by a child. 

The remarks that have been made touching the una- 
nimity of feeling in the Piscataqua Association must be 
understood to refer to the close of the last century, be- 
fore the critical study of the Scriptures had introduced 
diversity of opinion upon the subject of the Trinity. 



CHAPTER IV. 

PORTSMOUTH. PECULIARITY IN ITS EARLY SETTLEMENT 

AND IN ITS SOCIETY. ITS WEALTH. PERSONAL RECOL- 
LECTIONS. MRS. TAPPAN, DR. BUCKMINSTER's SISTER. 

Portsmouth from its foundation presented a state of 
society unlike that of any other place in New England. 
It was not settled from motives of religion, but for pur- 
poses of trade. Possessing one of the most beautiful 
localities, of intermingled land and water, its advantages 
of harbour and fishing-ground presented an alluring pros- 
pect to persons wishing to gain fortunes and to enjoy 
life. A well-authenticated anecdote shows that the in- 
habitants themselves would not hypocritically appropriate 
to themselves the praise of being a religious society. A 
reverend divine, preaching to them against the depravity 
of the tirnes,* said, " You have forsaken the pious habits 
of your forefathers, who left the ease and comfort they 
possessed in their native land, and came to this howling 
wilderness, to enjoy the exercise of their religion and a 
pure worship." One of the congregation rose and said, 
u Sir, you entirely mistake the matter : our ancestors 
did not come here on account of their religion, but to 
fish and trade." 

The settlement, the government, and the prevailing 
tone of society were different from most of the New 
England towns. There was no Puritanism in the early 



PORTSMOUTH. 35 

religion of the place. The settlers of Portsmouth re- 
tained their attachment to the English Church. Their 
first worship was Episcopalian, with service-books, has- 
socks, glebe-land, and manse. Even after ihe union 
with Massachusetts, the law that to be a freeman one 
must be a church-member was dispensed w 7 ith. The 
air that blew so freely over the purple waves of the Pis- 
cataqua # was truly the air of freedom. There w r as no 
persecution for religious opinions in Portsmouth. The 
wolf's head, that was nailed on the meeting-house door, 
did not indicate the spirit that spoke within. f 

The clergy had little or no influence beyond that which 
character gave them. The first Congregational min- 
ister, and there was no one of that denomination settled 
till 1671, was prosecuted and imprisoned by Governor 
Cranfield because he refused to administer the commun- 
ion according to the form of the English Church. The 
Governor had no design to make the church Episcopalian, 
but sought this mode of revenging himself upon the min- 
ister, who had offended him ; and four out of six of the 
judges concurred in the sentence. Could such a thing 
have taken place, under like circumstances, with a Wil- 
son or a Cotton ? 

Puritanism had little influence in forming the charac- 
ter of Portsmouth. The people w 7 ere impulsive and en- 
thusiastic ; easily excited to rejoicings, which they de- 
monstrated with great splendor and extravagance. They 
were little given to days of fasting and prayer. When 
the news and the agent of the Stamp Act arrived in Ports- 

* Every one who has lived at Portsmouth must recollect the pecu- 
liar steely color of the river. 

t In those early times, every one who killed a wolf nailed his head 
upon the meeting-house door, and received five pounds reward from 
the government. 



3b PECULIARITIES IN THE 

mouth, instead of appointing a day of fasting, they had 
what turned out to be a joyous procession and jubilee. 
It began indeed with mourning. The bells were tolled, 
and a funeral cortege formed, bearing a coffin with the 
inscription, " Liberty, aged 145 years." This was 
carried, with many ceremonies, to the grave. But as 
the news of the repeal had arrived before the day that 
the act was to go into operation, Liberty was rescued 
before it was buried, and carried off by its sons in 
triumph. Magazines of refreshments were provided at 
the corners of the streets, and all ended with a dinner 
and a ball. Indeed, in almost all celebrations of public 
events, instead of a sermon, there was a ball ; instead of 
days of fasting in Portsmouth, all public demonstrations 
of feeling ended with a feast. 

There was no parsimony in Portsmouth": The liber- 
ality of the town in its early days was shown in valuable 
donations to every institution of public utility, and in a 
most generous grant of four hundred pounds to Harvard 
College. The salaries of their earliest ministers were 
generous. To the rector, one hundred and thirty pounds, 
with glebe-land and parsonage, and the donations from 
strangers ; that is, the money laid upon the plate, which, 
in those early times, was placed in some conspicuous 
part of the meeting-house, and not needed by any poor 
persons. 

There were large fortunes made in Portsmouth, and 
the inhabitants imitated in splendor of living the mother 
country. Governor Wentworth, a man of most brilliant 
talents and accomplishments, with his enlarged views, re- 
fined tastes, and elegant manners, — with the means also 
of expense, receiving as he did a large salary,* — set the 

* His salary, besides his house-rent and farm, was fourteen hundred 
pounds. A large sum previous to the Revolution. 



SOCIETY OF PORTSMOUTH. 37 

example of social entertainments, and promoted every 
elegant amusement. There were more private carriages 
and livery servants in Portsmouth, in proportion to the 
number of inhabitants, than in any other place in New 
England. Even as late as the end of the last century, 
the writer can recollect scattered remnants of the for- 
mer splendor. Within the old meeting-house, ancient, 
venerable forms loom out of the distant dimness, ar- 
rayed in all the splendor of the costume of the court of 
George the Third. Immense wigs, white as snow, 
coats trimmed with gold lace, embroidered waistcoats, 
ruffles of delicate Mechlin lace worn by the rougher sex, 
cocked hats and gold-headed canes, — costumes that 
would now be assumed for a masquerade, — were scat- 
tered through the old meeting-house ; and then at the 
church door were the chariots, with livery footmen be- 
hind, to take the delicate-footed gentlemen to their homes. 
But these were only the broken and scattered remnants 
of the old fabric of society, — the preserved ornaments of 
old-fashioned splendor. The real wealih of the town, 
within the memory of the writer, was in the younger men, 
the merchants, sons of the workingmen and of the min- 
isters of the preceding age. 

There is no record remaining, accessible to the writer, 
of Dr. Buckminster's ordination. He was unmarried, 
and went immediately to board in the family of one of his 
deacons, at this time consisting of a middle-aged, child- 
less couple. In the memory of the writer, as known at 
a later period, they held so venerable and so peculiar an 
aspect, that she would fain transfer a sketch of them to 
her pages. They dwelt in a small, plain house, one little 
parlour of ten feet square containing all that was requi- 
site for their comfort. The deacon himself tended a lit* 
4 



38 SLIGHT SKETCHES OF 

tie shop in front of the parlour, filled with needles, pins, 
tape, quality-binding, snuff, — that most common lux- 
ury, — with a small pair of scales to weigh a copper's 
worth. The deacon always wore a full suit of very light 
drab broadcloth, with white cotton stockings and silver 
knee-buckles, and a full-bottomed white horsehair w 7 ig, al- 
ways powdered. His exquisitely plaited cambric ruffles 
were turned back while he was in the shop, under white 
linen sleeves or cuffs, and a white linen apron preserved 
the purity of the fine drab broadcloth. 

His solitary mate sat in the little three-cornered par- 
lour, whose fireplace was an afterthought, and built into 
the corner ; the bricks forming successive little shelves, 
where various small things could be kept warm. There 
she sat all day at her round table with needle-work, dress- 
ed in an old-fashioned brocade, with an exquisite lawn 
handkerchief folded over it, and environed with a scrupu- 
lous neatness, where the litter of children's sports never 
came. In the stoical childhood of the writer, it was a 
blessed recreation to be permitted to go and drink tea 
with the old-fashioned pair. The visiter sat upon the 
stair that came down into the room, and observed the 
process of making tea, when the bright copper kettle was 
placed before the fire, and the waiter with small china cups 
took the place of the work-basket upon the round table. 
Then, as the evening shades gathered in that little room, 
and the tea-kettle sang louder and louder, the mate of this 
solitary nest came in from the shop. His white wig was 
exchanged for a linen cap, the cuffs and the apron laid 
aside, and the latchet of the silver shoe-buckle unloosed, 
but not taken out. His place was also at another small 
table, where were writing materials and the ledger of the 
little establishment. 



FAMILIES IN PORTSMOUTH. SV 

It was the proud office of the childish visiter to be 
permitted to carry the smoking cup of tea across the 
few steps that divided the tables without spilling a drop, 
more than rewarded by the benignant smile, the cour- 
teous politeness, of the old gentleman. Yes, although he 
sold snuff by the copper's worth, he was a true paladin, 
chivalrous to his companion, whom he always called 
" My love," while she addressed him by the plainer title 
of " Neighbour," obeying, no doubt, the injunction of 
Scripture that she should love her neighbour as herself. 

In this frugal, uniform, secluded manner, they passed 
the evening of a life that had once been more eventful, 
and with greater means of expense, and in retaining the 
costume of better days, unsuited to the business of the 
small shop, they retained w r hat conduced to their own 
unassuming self-respect. The old lady always folded 
her work and closed her evening in the words of Dr. 
Watts :— 

" I 'm tired of visits, modes, and forms, 
And flatteries paid to fellow-worms ; 

Their conversation cloys, — 
Their vain amours, and empty stuff"; 
But I can ne'er enjoy enough 

Of thy dear company." 

In my childish simplicity, it seemed a beautiful compli- 
ment to her companion ; but as I now understand its sig- 
nificance, it seems almost a parody upon their quiet life. 
Another family, which presents a contrast to the last, 
appears in the magnifying memory of childhood with four- 
fold lustre, and their dwelling c ' like a palace in El Dorado, 
overlaid with precious metal." And there, at the gate of 
the palace, stood daily the chariot and the liveried ser- 
vants," and the lady came forth, stately, powdered, and, in 



40 SLIGHT SKETCHES OF 

the thought of the humble child, too delicate to press the 
rough earth with her foot ; and when she was seated, the 
two liveried negroes stood behind, and thus the pageant 
passed on. But all the barriers of ceremony were over- 
leaped when we were permitted to visit the great house ; 
for there was the only daughter, the only child of the 
house, but a few years older than ourself, lively, natural, 
amiable, and generous, in all the fulness of a noble heart. 
She was ready to instruct us in what she knew, and 
ready to join in any game for our amusement. 

Governor Langdon, of whose family I speak, and to 
whose friendship I w T ould pay a long-deferred but genuine 
tribute, was one of the most faithful, w r here all were faith- 
ful, of Dr. Buckminsler's parishioners. His daughter 
endeared herself singularly to the affections of children. 
The son of our family, of whom I shall presently speak, 
was happy in receiving from her his first impressions of 
the youthful feminine character. She was several years 
older, and had seen much more of the world ; therefore 
it was in her power to give him many valuable lessons, 
to instruct him in politeness, and to watch his progress 
in graceful manners and in deference to the society of 
ladies. He repaid her with the warmest gratitude and 
attachment ; and a friendship that began almost in his 
infancy went on increasing to the last hour of his life. 

Another, a middle group in the faithful and true pic- 
tures of a society long since passed away. This is the 
family of a favorite physician, the dearly loved and trust- 
ed friend. He also wears a full suit of a rich brown 
color, with cambric ruffles, silk stockings, and gold 
buckles at his knees and shoes. His is a small wig, or 
hair, curled and powdered at the sides, with a black silk 
bag behind, a three-cornered hat, and a gold-headed cane. 



FAMILIES IN PORTSMOUTH. 41 

As he picks his way, with quick, but careful steps, 
through the muddy streets, his hat is completely off at 
the meeting of every townsman, and every child is his 
particular care. From all the fresh young lips of the 
little girls, he takes a tribute as he passes ; they hold up 
their rosy faces, charmed with the familiar courtesy of 
the much-enduring man, and feeling richer for what they 
have given. 

Let us follow him to his home, where the exquisite 
brightness of the old-fashioned andirons, the brilliant pol- 
ish of the furniture, the closely drawn curtains, give to 
the modest apartment the charm of elegance, and some- 
thing even more home-like than elegance can impart. 
The w T ife, a faithful picture of the olden time, calm, 
stately, and lady-like, benignant and most lovable to 
children, — for she is herself childless, — brings forth her 
treasures of a yet more ancient time to charm the win- 
ter's evening. Another figure, dear to my childhood's 
memory, must not be omitted, — the grandmother of the 
hostess, then nearly ninety, holding herself yet erect in 
the easy-chair, with lawn hood, white as snow, plaited 
closely round the silvery hair, that is folded back over 
a cushion, — a fashion almost as old as the first century of 
the country. Beneath, the pale, calm, passionless face 
of a beautiful old age, and the sightless eyes, claiming a 
mysterious reverence from our young hearts. How 
much of the past could I have learned from her, had I 
known how to ask! 

In connection with the society in Portsmouth, as the 
place where such a character could find her appropriate 
sphere, and among the events that contributed greatly to 
the happiness of Dr. Buckminster, should be mentioned 
the residence in the same town, and near him, of his sis- 
4 # 



12 MRS. TAPPAN. 

ter Isabella and her husband, Mr. Amos Tappan, who 
was one of his most intimate personal friends, and for 
some years the deacon of his parish. This sister Isa- 
bella, the youngest of the family, then about eighteen 
years old, came to visit her brother soon after his mar- 
riage, and Providence so ordered that she remained the 
constant sharer of his joys and sorrows, the efficient 
friend, to him and to his children, through life, and not 
widely divided from him in death. She followed her 
brother in less than two years after his decease. 

Mrs. Tappan was certainly one of the most remark- 
able, one of the most heroic (for heroism applies to moral 
and religious principles as well as to heroic actions), of 
which the last century, so fruitful in noble women, has 
left us the example. Although she has passed away, 
and there has been no record of her deeds on earth, yet 
if we are permitted to believe that heaven is a place where 
the good receive their reward in observing the happiness 
of those they benefited on earth, there has she also met 
her appropriate reward. 

Mrs. Fry, Hannah More, and countless others, have 
been celebrated and admired. God forbid that one leaf 
should be shorn from the laurels that adorn their hon- 
ored names ; but they had the aid of fortune, of wealthy 
and efficient friends, of constant applause, of increasing 
fame, of royal approbation, and of a final reward in the 
public gratitude of the nation. Mrs. Tappan wrought 
for many years alone, with discouragement and illness on 
her side, struggling constantly against a strong current 
of worldliness and avarice. Let it be remembered, also, 
that she begun and carried on her labors before philan- 
thropy had received an impulse from the spirit of the 
age ; before charity-schools, associations, and benevolent 



HER CHARITY SCHOOLS. 



43 



societies had an existence ; and in a place, too, where no 
fashion and no notoriety could attach to them. Her 
husband, who fully participated in her benevolent plans, 
and helped, after her decease, to carry them out, was 
master of the grammar-school in Portsmouth, with a sal- 
ary never exceeding seven or eight hundred dollars. 
With these small pecuniary means, her benevolent plans 
were begun, carried on, and completed. With lion heart, 
she did not hesitate to attack avarice in its stronghold. 
With strong faith in the kindness of the human heart, 
with persuasive eloquence and unusual pathos in pleading 
the cause of the unfortunate, she approached the heart 
and the hand shut close upon its gold ; and one by one 
she unloosed the grasp of the fingers, and by degrees 
melted the ice about the heart, and gained her purpose. 
Her first object was the establishment of a charity- 
school for poor girls, and connected with it a Sunday 
school taught by young ladies enlisted by herself in this 
service. These children were taken from the lowest 
and most wretched class of society, were made re- 
spectable, and dressed in a neat uniform. Great w T as 
her delight when she saw them all neatly arrayed by her 
own exertions, and following their teachers to church, 
where a sermon was preached in their behalf by her 
brother, Dr. Buckminster, and a contribution taken. 
This, it must be remembered, was in the very beginning 
of the century, in 1803, before schools, especially Sun- 
day schools, were thought of in this country. Finding 
these poor children still corrupted by the debasing influ- 
ences of their homes, she changed her plan, and almost 
by her personal efforts alone established the Female 
Asylum in Portsmouth for destitute children. This in- 
stitution met with much opposition, but was firmly sus- 



44 HER EENEVOLENT OBJECTS. 

tained by her during her life. From causes which can- 
not be here detailed, it failed in the ultimate benefit 
expected from it. 

She was herself childless, but her home never lacked 
the cheerful voices and the kindly influences of young 
and childlike natures. Had her house been large 
enough, every motherless child would have found a home 
within it. Three young relatives of her husband's fam- 
ily and her own were permanently adopted by them, and 
received all the benefits of a paternal and religious home ; 
and were educated to practise the self-denial and to value 
the benevolent influences that formed the atmosphere by 
which they were surrounded. As soon as her two adopt- 
ed daughters were old enough, they were enlisted in her 
charitable forces, and helped to carry out her benevolent 
plans. She had read of Sunday schools in England, and 
was anxious to adopt them ; but she had yet a stronger 
sentiment in favor of domestic religious < instruction 
where it could be obtained. The colored population 
was very large at that time in Portsmouth, and, from the 
prejudice against color, their children did not enjoy the 
same privileges as others. Her benevolent heart keenly 
felt this injustice, and she sent her adopted daughters to 
collect the negro children in town, and to bring them to 
her own house, where there was religious instruction for 
them on the Sabbath ; to this was added a school every 
afternoon in the week, in which they were taught sewing, 
knitting, and reading. Both these schools were contin- 
ued by these young ladies for many years. This Sab- 
bath school was probably the first in New England. 
It was carried on in a humble, noiseless manner. It was 
scarcely known out of the street where she lived, and 
the investigation that has taken place about the honor of 



HER BENEFICENCE TO THE POOR. 45 

having instituted these useful schools has left this humhle 
one, and that, also, connected with the charity-school in 
Portsmouth, wholly unmentioned. 

It was not children alone that claimed her care. The 
old, the neglected, the sorrowful, the deserted, the for- 
gotten, were all her children and the recipients of her 
bounty. Every Sunday, some poor old creatures, weigh- 
ed down with infirmity, friendless, with none but her to 
pity, were invited to sit by the kitchen fire, and there a 
good dinner of meat and pudding was carried to them by 
herself from her table ; her kind voice, her sympathizing 
eye, cheered them, and they were sent away refreshed 
with the reflection that one friend at least cared for them. 
Even the miserable inmates of the almshouse were in- 
vited to her cheerful table, not merely to be cheered by 
a good dinner, but to be refreshed with the Christian sym- 
pathy of a heart alive to every impulse of humanity. 
This was not all. Her visits to the poor and afflicted 
were the daily doings, the constant duties and cares of 
the week. She sent her adopted children, and some- 
times her nieces, to search out the victims of want and 
misfortune ; the highways and the hedges were explored ; 
and all were included in that comprehensive charity 
where the only claim was suffering and sorrow. 

All this was accomplished by one who was more than 
a third of the time prostrate on a bed of suffering. She 
was subject to severe nervous headache, that, after some 
hours of acute suffering, was only relieved by opiates 
and sleep. While convalescent, she was planning her 
disinterested labors, which, the moment ease returned, 
were resumed and pursued with new ardor, before the 
return of another attack of pain. To use the beautiful 
words of another, u she seemed an angel ever on the 



46 HER SYMPATHY WITH THE SICK. 

wing, leaving a path of light and love behind her." Her 
noble, generous soul seemed to act from the instinct of 
beneficence. Tt was not necessary for her to pause. 
She felt that she was right. Her husband sometimes said, 
M Should we not stop to investigate our motives more 
fully, before we undertake a new experiment." She 
would answer, "I must not stop. I must act. Let 
motives take care of themselves ; for while I am deliber- 
ating, some poor creature may be perishing for lack of 
aid." With all this active charity, she w T as an angel of 
comfort and consolation by the bed of sickness, and in 
the chambers of the dying. She brought with her when 
she entered a calming, soothing power. Her cheerful 
countenance, her bright smile, and active step, when she 
entered the chamber of sickness, seemed instantly to 
banish anxiety and despondency. The writer of this 
imperfect sketch well remembers, that, with the sensitive 
feelings of childhood and the anxious fears of ignorance, 
she sympathized too keenly w T hen sickness arid sorrow 
were in the family ; but the moment this valued relative 
entered the chamber, a weight was lifted from her spirits. 
" All will now be well " was whispered to her heart, and 
the sunshine returned to her breast. It is a peculiar facul- 
ty, a direct gift of nature, with which a few favored beings 
are endowed, thus to be the aids and comforters of 
others. 

As the mind of Mrs. Tappan was occupied with great 
plans of benevolence, she did not therefore neglect the 
smallest effort ; the cup of cold water w T as never forgot- 
ten. Amon^ small aids for doing good was that of ap- 
propriating a room in her house to the use of a destitute, 
lonely widow, whose only occupation was making over 
old clothes, and repairing flannels and woollens, for the 



MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE. 47 

benefit of those who had none. When the materials 
failed, she spun and knit yarn into stockings for the 
poor. Bed-spreads and comforters were here quilted, 
that had been sewed together from the smallest scraps at 
her daughters' charity schools. Here, too, young ladies 
were invited to come, with thimble and needle, to spend 
a cheerful afternoon, leaving, as the result of their labors, 
garments for her destitute poor, and fully repaid by her 
own cheerful and animated conversation. 

But her active and benevolent spirit received a new 
impulse after the publication of Buchanan's and other 
missionary works. She threw all the ardor of her soul 
and all the energies of her mind into the cause of mis- 
sions. The rich were called upon to give, the young to 
aid with their labors, and her own days and nights were 
devoted to writing and to the diffusion of missionary in- 
formation. A new spirit was awakened in the country, 
and young men rushed from the plough and the work- 
bench to schools and academies, to obtain the requisite 
knowledge, in order to depart as missionaries to heathen 
lands. The beautiful hymn of Bishop Heber fired them 
with new zeal in the cause : — 

" From Greenland's icy mountain?, 

From India's coral strand, 
Where Afric's sunny fountains 

Roll down their golden sand, 
From many an ancient river, 

From many a palmy plain, 
They call us to deliver 

Their land from error's chain." 

The call was obeyed. The young missionaries were 
welcomed by her and her husband to their hospitable 
roof; their wants supplied, their wardrobes repaired, 



t@ MEETINGS FOR RELIGIOUS INQUIRY. 

their old clothes exchanged for new. For this purpose 
there was a chest of drawers appropriated to ready-made 
garments for missionaries ; and perhaps no satisfaction 
was ever greater than hers, when a young man was fur- 
nished and speeded on his labors. Her hopeful and 
imaginative mind looked forward into the future, and saw, 
with rapturous joy, the heathen forsaking his debasing 
superstitions, and whole nations converted to the blessed 
religion of Jesus. In faith she looked forward, but she 
witnessed only the dawn of missionary success. 

Mrs. Tappan's fervent spirit could not be satisfied with 
the common and ordinary sources of religious instruction. 
The pious fervor of her soul required a more intimate 
union with her fellow-Christians upon spiritual subjects. 
She was active, therefore, with other members of the 
church, in instituting meetings for prayer and religious 
inquiry, at which the presence of her brother, Dr. Buck- 
minster, was always desired. A person, then in the 
morning of life, who was present at these meetings, speaks 
of them, after the lapse of thirty years, in these glowing 
terms : — 

cc Dr. Buckminster's addresses at these meetings w r ere 
more tender and impressive than his w T ritten sermons. 
Here he came near to heaven, with his and our sorrows 
and wants. Here was the Bible unfolded and taken to 
every heart, and Christians trained for heaven. In these 
little rooms, unadorned and uncushioned, sat Dr. Buck- 
minster, as a ministering angel, his countenance beaming 
with heavenly love and his lips uttering celestial truths, 
leading that little company to the waters of eternal life. 
They drank there, and most of them are now at the 
fountain. They hunger no more, nor thirst, neither does 
the sun light on them or any heat. Those little white- 



MEETINGS FOR RELIGIOUS INQUIRY. 49 

washed rooms, — what scenes of interest could they un- 
fold ! There I learned the value of the soul, and, I trust, 
found safety. I shall never forget the tenderness and 
earnestness with which he spoke to me. The tears and 
the love of the pastor penetrated my soul. I feel assured 
it was in that little circle of affection and prayer that 
he strengthened his own spirit and lost his own burdens. 
Many who composed it were unlettered and unrefined, 
but in this weekly intercourse the elegance and refine- 
ment of his own mind were imparted ; they caught the 
gentleness and urbanity of his manners ; they became 
strong in the Bible spirit, and were imbued with Bible 
truth. It is remarkable how soon they were all, or near- 
ly all, called to follow him ; and what death-beds were 
theirs! Most of them were eminently blessed at the close 
of life. Those peaceful, dying scenes are among my 
sweetest memories." 

Mrs. Tappan, in these meetings, as in every thing else, 
was the leader and encourager of others. Her faith was 
rarely clouded, her intrepid spirit scarcely ever discour- 
aged. " There were occasions," says one of her adopted 
daughters, " in which she rose above herself, and appear- 
ed a superior being to all around her." One of the oc- 
casions referred to was after the death of Dr. Buckmin- 
ster, when, as often happens, there was disunion between 
the church and the parish in the choice of a candidate. 
Mrs. Tappan was deeply interested in the gentleman 
whom the church had chosen ; she could not bear to 
think of a disappointment. u The day of decision had 
arrived, and she spent it in her room, walking the floor, 
and endeavouring to stay her soul on God. At four 
o'clock the parish meeting closed, with a rejection of 
the candidate. The brethren of the church, in silence 



50 DEATH OF MKS. TAFPAN. 

and grief, assembled spontaneously at her house, but 
she was by this time wholly exhausted, and had taken 
to her bed. The friends went directly to her, and burst 
into a flood of tears, as they assembled around her. 
In an instant she sprang up in bed, and, with heroic 
courage and eloquence she addressed them: — i What ! 
my friends,' she said, ' is it for us to be faint-hearted, 
while God lives ? The cause is his, not ours. He will 
take care of his own.' And with astonishing energy and 
eloquence she continued to speak, till all were ashamed 
of their want of faith, and went forward with new reso- 
lution." * 

Mrs. Tappan died in April, 1814. There was a most 
affecting expression of the attachment which this friend 
of the sorrowful had inspired in every class of the com- 
munity. During her short and fatal illness, her chamber, 
and .all the avenues leading to it, were thronged with 
crowds of deeply anxious faces, asking and longing for 
one word of hope ; and when she died, the grief of the 
community was almost as fervent and universal as when 
her brother, Dr. Buckminster, was taken from his 
parish. 

* Mrs. Bigelow, of Rochester, Mass. 



CHAPTER V. 

MARRIAGE OF MR. BUCKMINSTER. CHARACTER AND ANEC- 
DOTES OF DR. STEVENS. DEATH OF MRS. BUCKMINSTER. 

DEPRESSION OF SPIRITS. SECOND MARRIAGE. JOYS 

AND TRIALS. 

Mr. Buckminster had been settled in Portsmouth 
three years, when he married, in 1782, Sarah Stevens, 
the only child of Dr. Benjamin Stevens, of Kittery 
Point. Kittery Point, upon the Piscataqua River, op- 
posite to Portsmouth, was at this and at an earlier 
period a fair town, in a flourishing condition. Merchants 
of large property made it their residence ; spacious 
houses were built, and strangers were much allured to 
the spot to enjoy the elegant hospitality of Sir William 
Pepperell. Dr. Stevens lived to see the decline of 
the place, the death or removal of his old friends, while 
the beautiful spot assumed almost its present appearance ; 
where the bright-flowing Piscataqua winds round empty 
fields, dotted only with the old trees of a former growth, 
and the land and water, so sweetly blended together, are 
varied only by its ancient tombs. 

The history of Dr. Stevens and his family is some- 
what peculiar. His father, the Rev. Joseph Stevens, 
was minister of the First Church of Charlestown, Mas- 
sachusetts. Ordained in 1713, his ministry had been of 
only eight years' duration, when he himself, and, save one 



52 REV. MR. STEVENS OF CHARLESTOWN. 

child, his whole family, consisting of his wife, two chil- 
dren, his wife's sister, and a maid-servant, were all 
swept oft' at once by the small-pox. His second son, 
Benjamin, then an infant of seven months old, was saved 
by the prudence of a nurse, who fled with him from the 
contagion to his grandfather's house in Andover. 

Mr. Stevens, the minister of Charlestown, was a man 
much beloved, and distinguished by peculiar graces. 
The Rev. Dr. Colman, of Brattle Street church, wrote 
of him a short biography, as a preface to four sermons 
upon that "better, heavenly country," which he was in 
the course of preaching when he was taken away, to 
dwell in that " better land." 

From this source we learn, that "he was possessed 
of great personal beauty, and no less distinguished for 
the brilliant qualities of his mind. His countenance was 
grave, of a sweet expression, and full of life. He ex- 
celled in conversation, and the modesty of his deportment 
gave a singular grace to the superiority and dignity that 
were natural to him. In the delivery of his sermons he 
was distinguished for his animation. His eyes as well 
as his tongue were wont to speak with such majesty, as 
well as solemnity, as commanded the ears and hearts of 
his audience. Indeed, his natural advantages were such, 
that, while they formed a distinguished divine, they might 
have equally qualified him as a judge or a commander, 
had Providence called him to the bench or the field." # 

It is a striking circumstance, perhaps, that this descrip- 
tion of Mr. Stevens would apply with great exactness to 
his great-grandson, the pastor of Brattle Street church, 
who inherited his name, as well as his personal graces. 

* See the History of the First Church of Charlestown, by W. J. 
Buddington. 



DR. STEVENS OF KITTERY POINT. 53 

Their ministry also was of the same duration, — eight 
years, — both dying in their full strength, one at twenty- 
eight, the other at forty years of age. 

The single scion of the family who escaped the ravages 
of the small-pox, the orphan Benjamin, was educated at 
Harvard College, and settled at Kittery Point, at that 
time, as mentioned above, a flourishing and attractive 
place. He married a daughter of Judge Trowbridge, of 
Cambridge.* His wife died early, leaving him an only 
child, a daughter, thus motherless, at the age of ten years. 
When urged to marry again, he replied, — " I do not 
feel that the tie that bound me to one now in heaven is 
dissolved by death ; I live in the firm faith of meeting my 
wife again." When he was reminded that it was his 
duty to give his only daughter a guardian and female 
companion, he said that he thought himself able to be 
the guardian of his daughter, and that he did not wish to 
place her under any authority but his own. And he 
became indeed the companion of his only child. The 
union between father and daughter was singularly free, 
unreserved, and beautiful. 

Some anecdotes remain of Dr. Stevens, that are as 
characteristic of the manners of a century ago, as of the 
individuality of his character. The meeting-house and 
parsonage on Kittery Point, upon the northeastern shore, 
at the mouth of the Piscataqua, have an aspect and sit- 
uation which in summer cannot be surpassed for beau- 
ty and variety of scenery, but in winter are bleak and 
exposed to storms, and at times the river must have been 
almost impassable. Tradition informs us, that, after 

* Mr. Ellery, of Newport, grandfather of Dr. Charming, married a 
sister of Mrs. Stevens. Dr. Channing and Joseph Stevens Buckmin- 
ster were second-cousins. 



."> I ANECDOTES OF DR. STEVENS. 

he was somewhat advanced in years, and consequently 
not very well able to bear the cold, he would remain in 
the parsonage on a stormy Sabbath morning in the win- 
ter till the bell had tolled some time, and then he would 
send his servant Sambo into the meeting-house with the 
message, that, if there were but seven hearers assembled, 
" massa" invited them to come into his parlour, and he 
would preach to them there ; but if there were upwards 
of seven, he would go to the meeting-house. He would 
then enter, with his outside garment tied closely around 
his waist with a silk handkerchief, as no fires were then 
kept in the places of worship, and, thus protected from 
the cold, he would go through the services. 

He used to ride on horseback in the winter accoutred 
in the same manner, and carry relief to the temporal wants 
of the poor and sick, as well as spiritual instruction to 
all whom he could reach. He was intimately acquainted 
with every member of his parish, man, woman, and child ; 
and although his meeting-house was usually well filled in 
good weather, and very often crowded, he could tell who 
were missing, and if places were vacant on a pleasant 
Sabbath, he was sure to be out on horseback very early 
on Monday morning to visit the absentees. Few, very 
few, ever put him to the trouble of going to see them 
two Mondays in succession. 

Sambo, the black servant already mentioned, was the 
factotum in his master's small family, and very fond of a 
practical joke. One summer's day, when one of the 
clerical brethren came to visit his master, Sambo teth- 
ered the horse so near to the rocks in the pasture that 
the poor beast could get but a very scanty meal. When 
reproved by his master for his inhospitality, he replied, 
" Massa tell Sambo that the nearer the bone the sweeter 



ANECDOTES OF DR. STEVENS. 55 

the meat, and Sambo thought that the nearer the rock 
the sweeter the grass." Even without this anecdote we 
should infer that Dr. Stevens, although extremely liberal 
and charitable, conducted his affairs with shrewdness and 
economy ; for out of a small salary he was able to lay by 
some thousands of dollars, and at his death he was es- 
teemed rich. 

Dr. Stevens's intimacy with the Pepperells brought 
upon him the suspicion of inclining to the mother coun- 
try at the approach of the contest with her colonies. 
After the death of President Holyoke of Harvard Uni- 
versity, in 1769, " the minister of Kittery," says Hutch- 
inson, " would have had the voice of the people as a 
candidate for the presidency if his political principles 
had not been a bar."* An anecdote often related indi- 
cates his political bias. Upon one occasion, when he 
was preaching in Portsmouth, a gentleman named Blunt 
had a son to be baptized, and the ordinance, according 
to the custom of that day, was to take place immediately 
after the sermon. In the discourse, which was some- 
what political, Oliver Cromwell was mentioned, and 
" soundly berated." At the close, the parents and child 
were called for, and the father, when requested to give 
the name, suppressed the one previously selected, and 
called out, in a voice loud enough to be heard by the 
whole congregation, " Oliver Cromwell," and by that 
name the child was baptized. 

That, when the contest was finally decided upon, Dr. 
Stevens took the part of the colonies, is apparent from 
all his subsequent history. He never lost in the smallest 
degree the respect and affection of his own parish or of 

* Hutchinson's History of Massachusetts., Vol. III. p. 262. 



56 DEATH OF DR. STEVENS. 

the country. His death took place in 1791. An aged 
woman now living relates, that at his funeral the shore of 
the beautiful point was lined with boats, and the meeting- 
house crowded to overflowing with a weeping multitude. 
Another aged person says, that, to the day of his death, 
he was an early riser ; that being employed at work 
opposite the parsonage the year of his death, the first 
person he saw on every summer morning was Dr. Ste- 
vens, at his study window, with his book in his hand, just 
as the sun was rising. 

The writer, some years ago, met with a singular proof 
of the whimsical idea Dr. Stevens's parishioners enter- 
tained of his great learning. Passing in a small boat 
over the river to the " Point," an ancient boatman, who 
was no bad representative of Charon himself, sat at the 
helm, and paddled the boat across. Being asked if he re- 
membered Dr. Stevens, — u Remember him, indeed ! " 
he answered ; " he not only baptized, but he married me 
also. Ah ! " he said, " he was a prodigiously learned 
man, and never spoke except in Greek and Hebrew." 

While the French fleet were stationed in the harbour 
near by, during the war, the officers were much in the 
habit of enjoying the hospitality of Dr. Stevens's parson- 
age, and this vicinity came very near to depriving him 
of his only daughter. The father of an only child could 
not consent to her leaving him for a distant country, and 
the decision of the father was unquestioned by the 
daughter. 

The experiment of educating his daughter himself, 
and carrying her through the years of youth without 
female companionship, was eminently successful, if we 
may rely upon the testimony of all who knew her. She 
went to no dame's school, to no school whatever, and, 



SARAH STEVENS. 



except in visits made to her mother's relations, her father 
was her sole companion, and her instructer in English lit- 
erature, — for female education in those days went no 
further, — and the relation between them was as unre- 
served as it was singular and beautiful. A contemporary, 
now eighty-eight years old, writes, — " Sarah Stevens was 
quoted as a model of perfection by all who knew her." 
Only a few years ago, the aged inhabitants of Kittery 
delighted to describe her to the writer as she remained 
in their memory in her riding-habit — or Joseph, as it was 
then called — and beaver hat, as she rode by her father's 
side when he made his parochial visits, and the very 
chair she sat in has been fondly pointed out. Traces, 
too, of her cultivating hand remain in the very shrub- 
bery that shaded her window, while all else is desolate 
about the parsonage. 

With extreme natural sensibility, the seclusion and the 
romantic scenery in which she lived were calculated to 
develop the imagination, and to give a sentimental turn 
to her thoughts, which was checked by the stern good- 
sense of the father. Her letters show that she some- 
times pined under her extreme solitude, when winter 
storms lashed into foam the river that divided them from 
all society, and no boat could pass to their secluded 
dwelling. Dr. Stevens was furnished with resources 
for a winter's day such as few of his brethren possessed, 
in the library, splendid for those times, which was left 
him by Sir William Pepperell. The books were mostly 
English editions of the very best authors. At his own 
death, he bequeathed them for the use of the ministers of 
York and Kittery. 

The first letter written after her marriage, at the first 
separation from her husband, shows the extreme tender- 



58 LETTERS OF 

ness of her attachment to him. He'was absent on an 
exchange with Dr. Morse, of Charlestown. 

" I have retired to my chamber, but my spirits are so sunk 
by the absence of my dearest friend, that I cannot think of 
going to bed, and will try by this imaginary conversation, by 
the aid of the pen, to banish the gloom for a few minutes. 
Indeed, my friend, I hardly ever felt more unhappy than I have 
this day ; and although I have attended meeting both parts 
of the day, my wandering mind, I fear, was more employed 
upon an earthly object that was absent, than engaged in the 
service of a heavenly Friend who is always present. Mr. 
Morse left me very soon after meeting ; since then I have 
wandered from one room to another, but everywhere I miss 
my companion. I try to reason with myself; I endeavour 
to suppress my regrets and to be happy, but as yet my ef- 
forts are vain. O my friend, if I cannot bear a separation 
for a few days, how should I live if I should see you no 
more ? I sometimes fear that, for an undue attachment to an 
earthly object, I may be reminded of its sinfulness by having 
it taken from me ; but God grant that so severe an affliction 
may not be necessary for me." 

" Monday Night. — One more day has passed without my 
beloved friend. I would not send this letter if I could not tell 
you that I have felt less unhappy than I did yesterday. It is 
not that I have thought less of you, but I have schooled my- 
self to be more reconciled to your absence. Miss A. has 
passed the day with me, and I would not have any one a 
witness to my grief; to none but my beloved companion could 

I confess it About two o'clock we had a very 

severe storm of wind, rain, and thunder. The former made 
great devastation among the trees in the neighbourhood. 
Our little garden, which I dare say you have thought of, has 
suffered less than could have been expected ; some things 



MRS. BUCKMINSTER. 59 

are laid low, but your beans, I am thankful to find, still keep 
their place, or rather climb higher every hour. This will 
reach you just after Commencement. I hope you have en- 
joyed the day, and that its fatigue has not been too much for 
you. I trust it has been every way agreeable, and that every 
thing will tend to your happiness while absent." 

At the end of the first year of her marriage, a little 
daughter was born, that died a short time after its birth. 
The mother expresses her resignation in a letter to her 
father : — 

" Heaven saw best to disappoint our hopes by taking the 
life of our little girl ; I could have wished that it might have 
been spared, but it was undoubtedly best for us, as well as 
for the babe, that it was not, therefore I am resigned and 
contented. I have great reason to be thankful that my own 
life was spared. I enjoy many more blessings than I deserve. 
My lot is a most blessed one, and I wish I may not be want- 
ing in gratitude to the Giver of all my blessings." 

Within the eight short years that this grateful and lov- 
ing woman formed the domestic happiness of Dr. Buck- 
minster, she became the mother of four children. The 
second child and only son, Joseph, was six years old 
at her death. It is easy to see how much influence such 
a mother must have had upon her son. Her life was 
spared long enough for her maternal love to make those 
impressions on his susceptible mind, that most deeply 
and permanently stamp the future character. That she 
lived long enough to reap the fruit of her care in the 
promise of most gracious dispositions in her son appears 
from an authentic anecdote, related by his father only a 
short time before his own death. 



OU ANECDOTE OF HER SON. 

When Joseph was between five and six years old. his 
parents left home on a journey for a few weeks, and his 
father, when he took leave of the boy, said, rather 
jestingly, — cc "Well, my son, you must have, an eye to 
the family while I am absent, and see that every thing 
goes on in its accustomed regularity,*' — never suspecting 
the extent to which his suggestion would be acted upon. 
Joseph accordingly, as soon as the hours of school were 
over, repaired to his father's study, and spent the time 
alone with the books ; and when the hour for the morn- 
ing or evening devotions of the family arrived, he rang 
the bell, and, in his sweet, childish voice, summoned the 
inmates of the house to prayers. He read a chapter, 
with the commentary, as usual, and concluded with an 
extemporaneous prayer ; and this with so much gravity 
and solemnity, that, instead of any approach to levity in 
the servants, they were impressed with deep seriousness. 
and one of them was greatly affected. This was not done 
once or twice, but continued, with unabated reverence. 
during the absence of his parents."" 

The mother consecrated her son to God upon her 
death-bed, and expressed the hope, that, if his life were 
spared, he would become a minister. No doubt he would 
have followed his own inclination in the choice of a pro- 
fession, but it seems early to have been the decided bent 
of his character, as will afterwards appear. 

The letters of his mother that have been preserved 
breathe the utmost tenderness of devotion to her husband 
and children, and gratitude for a happiness seldom the 

* The writer would add, that this anecdote had always been tradi- 
tionary in the family ; but that it is inserted here upon the authority 
of Mr. Dana, of Marblehead, to whom Dr. Buekminster related it a 
short time before his death. 



DEATH OF MRS. BUCKMINSTER. 61 

lot of mortals. It is not strange, then, that on her dying 
bed she should have uttered the words, — cc Father ! the 
cup cannot pass away. I must drink it ! Thy will be 
ddne ! " The contemporary quoted above adds, " No 
one ever lived more beloved, or died more lamented." 

It is a touching anecdote, related by the same authority, 
of the aged father, Dr. Stevens, when his daughter was 
lying within a few days of her death, riding many miles 
in search of a plant that he had heard was a specific in 
complaints of the lungs. Fond affection clings to the 
frailest support, and finds food for hope where others 
find only despair. He survived his daughter only ten 
months. It was said that Dr. Stevens's death was occa- 
sioned by taking cold at the funeral of a parishioner ; but 
those who knew him intimately said that he never was 
himself after the death of his child. The tears that 
flowed then were not the most bitter that have been shed 
on her grave. When God, in his holy and mysterious 
Providence, takes a mother from her infant children, the 
loss is the most irreparable to those most insensible to .its 
magnitude. Theirs is a twofold loss, — bereft of the 
remembrance, as well as of the possession, of a mother's 
love. She died July 17th, 1790. 

It was not surprising that the wreck of Dr. Buckmin- 
ster's domestic joys, after only eight years of happiness, 
left as he was with three motherless children, should have 
brought back the nervous distress to which, from con- 
stitutional temperament, he was easily subjected. At 
this period of his life he kept a diary, consisting, how- 
ever, almost entirely of spiritual exercises and experi- 
ences ; of records of a sense of sinfulness, aggravated 
by a morbid and exaggerated conscientiousness. 

Into the sacred records of the conflicts of the soul, 



RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCES. 



when overwhelmed with nervous distress, the eye of a 
child has hardly dared to penetrate, much less to reveal 
them to the unsympathizing scrutiny of those who differ 
from him in religious views, or to the approving gaze of 
that portion of Christians who consider them as the ne- 
cessary accompaniment of the conversion of the soul to 
God. A prominent religious publication, soon after his 
death, made use of a stray leaf of this journal, that had 
fallen into the hands of the editors, to assert, that he 
entered into the ministry from motives utterly defective 
and wrong, and that, after ten years of devotion to his 
parish, he expressed a horror that he had ever attempted 
to preach ; and insinuated that conversion had never 
before taken place in his soul, and that the overwhelming 
view that he now took of his personal vileness, of the 
deceit and desperate wickedness of his heart, — so that he 
intermitted preaching, and all family devotion, because 
he thought himself unworthy to continue in the ministry, 
— was the true, and not the diseased, state oY his mind. 
His nervous disease, which is now far better under- 
stood than at that time, ever took the form of exaggerated 
conscientiousness, melancholy apprehensions about the 
religious state of his friends, and of his own religious 
condition and safety. The morbid and diseased state of 
his health induced constant iteration of the fear, that he 
had sinned beyond the reach of mercy ; that his ministry 
had been only a hypocritical exercise of sinful or insin- 
cere experiments, and that he had ruined all with whom 
he had ever been connected. There is certainly a want 
of candor, or an absence of philosophical insight, in mak- 
ing use of the expressions of a morbid conscientiousness 
as the proofs of a wicked or unregenerate state of the 
heart. 



RELIGIOUS DIARY. 63 

The above-mentioned journal was soon after discon- 
tinued, and the writer has heard her father, later in 
life, remark, that he considered such records as delusive 
representations of the state of the religious affections, 
eminently calculated to produce self-deception, mislead- 
ing the writer into exaggerated ideas of the evil in the 
heart ; while, on the other hand, by recording transient 
emotions and elevated devotional feeling, a too exalted 
state is induced, in danger of leading to spiritual pride 
and to false security. 

During the last illness and death of his wife, this diary 
contains scarcely a record, except of the alternate feeling 
of hope and of despair produced in his own mind as 
the slight variations of better and worse in the delusive 
malady of consumption took place. And when there 
was no more hope, all other records were wiped away, 
and she alone " lived in the book, and in the volume of 
the brain, the tablets of the heart." 

In this season of his affliction, October 18th, 1790, 
he was chosen Professor of Theology of Phillips Exe- 
ter Academy, the trustees of this richly endowed 
institution having then the intention of making it more 
of a school of theology than appears to have been the 
object of the founder. Sympathizing friends urged his 
acceptance of this office, hoping that change of scene 
and occupation would heal the deep wounds of an afflic- 
tive Providence. But he was now firmly rooted in the 
affections of his people in Portsmouth, and decided to 
remain among them ; and, indeed, no other sphere of 
usefulness could have been half so appropriate. From 
the time of his affliction, his people observed in him, if it 
were possible, an increase of spirituality and fervor in the 
work of his ministry. He was in labors more abundant, 



64 



SECOND .MARRIAGE. 



anxious " to spend and be spent in his Master's service." 
To quote the words of another, " He loved the work of 
his Divine Lord and Master above every thing else, and 
nothing gave him so much joy as to be able to win souls 
to Christ. There was a wonderful pathos in his suppli- 
cations to the throne of Divine grace, and a wonderful 
variety and pertinence in all his professional services. 
At the communion-table, in the chamber of sickness, in 
the house of mourning, and at the grave, his addresses 
were extremely appropriate, tender, and deeply impres- 
sive." 

It is said in the Life of Dr. D wight,* that an eminent 
civilian, hearing Mr. Buckminster pray, after the death 
of General Washington, remarked, that Mr. Buckmin- 
ster deserved no credit for that prayer, for it was the 
effect of immediate Divine inspiration. Such an impres- 
sion was often left by his occasional services ; but his 
prayers were only the fruit of a devout heart. They 
breathed a spirit of ardent piety. They were evidence 
that "human wants and human sorrows, the dangers 
which encompass the Christian's course, and the conflicts 
to which goodness is exposed, were subjects of his ha- 
bitual thought." He considered devotion as the life of 
Christian goodness, and, to promote it in his parish, he 
appointed two evenings in the week for private meetings 
with two different classes of his people ; the sisters of 
the church, and the young people, who were prompted 
by an interest in religion to seek counsel of their pastor. 

In the year 1793, Mr. Buckminster gave a mother to 
his bereaved children, by marrying Mary Lyman, the 
daughter of Rev. Isaac Lyman of York, and sister of 

* Sparks's Biography, Life of President Dwight, by W. B. Sprague. 



SALARY AND CHILDREN. 65 

the late Theodore Lyman, Esq., of Boston. With a 
disposition eminently cheerful, and a heart entirely de- 
voted to domestic joys and interests, — as a fond moth- 
er, and a careful guardian of all that could constitute the 
charm of home, — she made him eminently happy in 
this connection. While she enjoyed health, and indeed 
while she lived, although cares pressed and children mul- 
tiplied, his cheerfulness never failed. He had no attack 
of nervous disease, and but a momentary depression of 
spirits. 

In the last century, the salaries of ministers were very 
small, at least in all places except that which has been 
called the paradise of their order, Boston. Mr. Buck- 
minster's society at Portsmouth was as liberal as any 
other there, but his salary was not sufficient to spare the 
pastor from those anxieties and cares which are peculiar- 
ly wearing to generous and refined natures. He was ex- 
tremely generous in his disposition, and hospitable in his 
habits, and would gladly have had all his brethren at 
his frugal table. His settlement was upon the value of 
wheat and Indian corn, and varied extremely in differ- 
ent years ; but never did the amount, I think, exceed 
six or seven hundred dollars. With these rather lim- 
ited means, it was a fixed principle with him never to 
owe any thing. He never allowed himself to purchase 
a thing for which he could not pay upon the spot, deny- 
ing himself and family rather than incur a debt. 

Providence richly endowed him with what has been 
called the minister's blessing, children. His quiver was 
full of them, and the olive-branches grew thick around 
his table, upon which, as may be supposed, the meal 
was simple and frugal, and the elastic cord of means 
needed to be stretched to the utmost to make both the 
6* 



DEATH OF CHILDREN. 



ends meet around a year's expenses. He suffered much 
domestic grief in the loss of many lovely children, who 
were taken away at the most attractive period of life, — 
at the ages of one and two years ; and the tenderness of 
his nature was deeply touched at such losses. Five of 
his twelve children died in infancy. 



CHAPTER VI. 

EARLY DEVELOPMENT OF THE CHARACTER OF HIS SON 

JOSEPH. LETTERS BETWEEN THE FATHER AND THE SON. 

EXETER ACADEMY. 

Joseph Stevens, the eldest son of Dr. Buck- 
minster, was born May 26th, 1784. It has been men- 
tioned in the last chapter, that his mother on her death- 
bed prayed that her son might be devoted to the church ; 
for this purpose both parents took the greatest delight in 
cultivating his mind, — a mind, too, of such early prom- 
ise, as almost from infancy gave indication of its excel- 
lence. I quote the letter of his eldest sister : # — 

" I do not know how soon my brother was able to read ; 
but at four years old he began to sudy the Latin Grammar, 
and had so great a desire to learn the Greek also, that my 
father, to please him, taught him to read a chapter in the 
Greek Testament by pronouncing to him the words. As 
early as this he evinced that love for books and ardent 
thirst for knowledge which he possessed through life. He 
was seldom willing, while a child, to leave his books for any 
amusement; my father was so much afraid that close ap- 
plication would injure his health, that he used to reward 
him for playing with hoys of his own age, and would go 

* Afterwards the wife of John Farrar, Hollis Professor of Mathe- 
matics in Harvard University. 



68 EARLY DOCILITY OF JOSEPH. 

with him to persuade him by example to take part in their 
sports. I have no recollection that, when we were children, 
he ever did any thing wrong. He had always the same 
open, candid disposition that marked his manhood, nor can 
I recollect any time when I did not feel perfect confidence 
that whatever he did was right. From the time he was five 
till he was seven years old, it was his practice to call the 
domestics together on Sabbath mornings, and read to them 
one of my father's manuscript sermons, repeat the Lord's 
Prayer, and sing a hymn ; and he performed the service 
with such earnestness, that he was always listened to with 
attention. I have heard my dear father say that he never 
knew him to tell an untruth, or to prevaricate in the least. 
Indeed, there was always something about him that gained 
the love of all who knew him." 

But though the nature of the boy was most docile, 
rich, and promising, the history of his short life will 
show that it was not genius alone that made him so 
early eminent ; that it was to his father's extraordinary 
care and watchfulness that he was indebted for the early 
excellence of his character ; and, further, that there was 
nothing precocious in his mind. Every thing that he 
was and did was the natural fruit of previous sowing, 
watering, culture ; so that, had he lived, what he^had 
already accomplished would have been regarded by him 
but as immature and imperfect, — marking only an epoch 
in a development of his mind that would still have gone 
on in continual progress. 

Still, the temperament of his youthful mind seems 
to have been of that elastic and buoyant character, which 
no kind of education could have depressed or confined. 
A gentle docility, a serene gayety, was ever the character 
of his disposition. This shone always in his counte- 



PURITAN EDUCATION. 69 

nance, and was apparent in the freedom of all his bear- 
ing. He was, too, in his boyhood, eminently handsome. 
The open brow, shaded with chestnut curls, and the 
beautiful hazel eyes, attracted the attention of strangers 
who met him in the street ; and, in one instance, a gen- 
tleman and lady, travellers, passing through Portsmouth, 
charmed by his beautiful countenance, followed him to 
his home, and made the singular request to be permitted 
to adopt him as their own son. 

Thus girt round with all domestic, all religious influ- 
ences, — all obedience upon one side, all watchful care 
upon the other, — it seems as though it would be impos- 
sible for the young feet to stray, or the young heart to 
throb with any but peaceful wishes ; and with so docile 
a nature as Joseph's, all went well. But in the stoical 
homes of our Puritan childhood, free-will was too much 
restrained ; the child was subjected to the bonds of a 
too strict obedience ; the struggle of even innocent de- 
sires with the Puritan ideas of parental authority planted 
many a cypress-tree in the young heart, under whose 
shade perished the opening buds and beautiful flowers 
of joy. It may be a question hard to decide, whether 
is more conducive to the happiness of the whole of life 
the former iron-bound obedience or the present un- 
limited indulgence. If it be true, as Goethe in all the 
calm sincerity of a life of great experiences asserts, that 
" only with renunciation can life, properly speaking, 
be said to begin," then the earlier and the more 
complete the self-denial in the first years of life, the 
more prepared will the child be for happiness and for 
duty. But when we reflect how small is the portion 
of happiness that sometimes comes to dwell in the same 
heart in after life, is it not unjust to abridge the inno- 
cent joys of childhood ? 



70 FRIENDSHIPS OF BOYHOOD. 

" Since sorrow never comes too late, 
And happiness too swiftly flies, 
No more ; — where ignorance is bliss, 
'T is folly to be wise." 

Of youthful, or rather boyish friendships formed at 
this early period of Joseph's life, I can remember only 
two. The participator of one of them, Jacob Picker- 
ing, Esq., of Portsmouth, yet survives. The object of 
the other youthful attachment was a very promising lad, 
of the same age, George M. Sheafe, the son of James 
Sheafe, of Portsmouth. The two friends entered Exe- 
ter Academy together, were classmates at college, and 
the early death of Sheafe, at the age of nineteen, was 
deeply regretted by his young friend. His letters, in 
the round hand of a school-boy, were all carefully pre- 
served. 

Till the age of ten, Joseph remained at the gram- 
mar school in Portsmouth, taught by Mr. Amos Tap- 
pan, who married Dr. Buckminster's sister, and who 
was brother of Rev. David Tappan, Professor of Di- 
vinity at Harvard University. It was now necessary 
that he should enter a higher school. Phillips Exe- 
ter Academy then, as now, enjoyed a reputation sec- 
ond to none in the country. It was under the instruc- 
tion of that most excellent man and renowned instruct- 
ed Mr. Benjamin Abbot. It is to be regretted that 
no history of Exeter Academy has ever been writ- 
ten. Probably more distinguished men have been edu- 
cated at that school, and have been benefited by the 
instruction of its distinguished preceptor, than at any 
other in the United States. 

Few anecdotes remain of Joseph's boyhood, and at 
the distance of half a century there is no possibility of 



" OLD HANNAH." 71 

collecting more. Nearly all are dead who witnessed the 
early unfolding of this bud of promise. His eldest 
sister could remember his childhood, but the present 
writer was too young to recollect any thing of him be- 
fore he went to college. She was not then seven years 
old, and even the vacations that brought him under the 
paternal roof have left only a faint impression. It is 
remarkable that his father never, in a letter or in any 
other way, gave the least indication that he was im- 
pressed by the extraordinary unfolding of his son's 
character. His early excellence seems to have been 
expected, as a matter of course, and only the natural 
result of extraordinary care. 

There were two persons witnesses of his childish 
attractions, " who kept all these things in their hearts," 
and, had they lived, would have preserved rich stores 
of anecdote. One was an old domestic, who had lived 
with his mother, and remained the faithful nurse of her 
children till their father married again. She loved them 
all, but Joseph was her idol. She had no power of ex- 
pressing her love and admiration, and until he was grown 
to man's estate, whenever " Old Hannah " met him, she 
threw her arms around him, and kissed him on each side 
of the face, and on his forehead and lips. She always 
found out when he was expected at his father's house, 
and, dressing herself in her old-fashioned suit, preserved 
with the greatest care for Sundays and for this occa- 
sion, she was on the spot to greet her darling with tears 
and smiles and inarticulate joy. 

The other was an aunt, the sister of his father, al- 
ready mentioned, — a most noble-hearted, excellent wom- 
an, a strict Calvinist, whose creed w T as sadly at variance 
with her warm heart. She maintained, in conversa- 



72 EXETER ACADEMY. 

tion, that every little son and daughter of Adam was the 
subject of sin and of correction before they were nine 
months old, and in theory she was a great friend to the 
rod ; but she always said that she could find nothing 
wrong in Joseph, and never punished him. She was 
childless, but her house was never without two or three 
orphan children ; and she became so indulgent in prac- 
tice, that her last adopted child would have been utterly 
spoiled, had she been susceptible of spoiling. 

Joseph entered Exeter Academy in the autumn of 
the year 1795, having completed his eleventh year the 
preceding May. The letters of the father to the son 
while at Exeter were preserved with the utmost care- 
fulness by the boy. Every trivial scrap, even on half a 
leaf of paper, was hoarded with a miser's care. They 
have been treated with like scrupulous respect, and, of 
the few introduced, not one word has been altered ; even 
the original punctuation has remained unchanged. The 
son's letters were also as carefully preserved for many 
years, but, with other family papers, were destroyed by 
accidental fire not many years ago. 

The first and second letters of the father are with- 
out date : — 

" I have in a sense but just left you, my dear son, but so 
great is my affection and concern for you that I gladly em- 
brace every opportunity of writing to you, and wish you 
may have a, similar affection and concern for us. Your 
situation is such as I think must be agreeable and advan- 
tageous to you, and if you behave yourself well, with the 
smiles of Providence, you will be respected and happy. 
I am pleased to see your respectful and manly behaviour 



LETTERS OF DR. BUCKMINSTER TO HIS SON. 73 

in the family; continue to do so, and especially at any 
time in the absence of Mr. and Mrs. Rowland ; never do 
any thieg because they are gone which you would not do 
if they were at home ; nor do any thing of which you would 
be ashamed, because you think you can keep it secret; such 
conduct discovers a little and base mind. If you acci- 
dentally do any mischief, (and I hope you will never do 
any with design,) do not endeavour to hide, but acknowl- 
edge it, and be sorry. Cultivate a sincere respect for your 
instructers, and never cherish prejudices against them. In- 
structors, who are entitled to the respect of their pupils, 
love those that respect them. I have borrowed a Sallust 
for you from Judge . Parker. Take especial care of bor- 
rowed books. 

" Do not study too hard, so as to injure your eyes, and 
do not be too anxious about acquitting yourself: be easy 
and contented in yourself: fear God, and pray to him. Be 
respectful and kind to all men, and be not too forward in the 
company of your superiors. Be swift to hear, but slow to 
speak. 

" We have a smart shower upon us, and in our anxiety 
fear you will get wet. Be careful, lest you should be 
again seized with the rheumatism. We all love you and 
long to hear from you. Your sisters, though they, poor girls, 
cannot write,* will be glad to have a little letter from you.'" 

I would not swell these pages with all the father's let- 
ters to the son, of which one was written every week 
during his residence at Exeter Academy. But it must 
be recollected that the boy was only eleven years old, 
and I shall select only such passages as show with what 
minute care and tender solicitude his every footstep was 
followed by the anxious father. 

* His sisters were of the ages of eight and five. 

7 



7i LETTERS OF DR. BUCKMINSTER TO HIS SON. 

' ; Your letter, my dear sort, was received with pleasure, 
as all your letters are ; but the pleasure in this case was a 
little heightened by inclosing your first attempt at com- 
position, with a request that I would mention such correc- 
tions as might be made in it. It is very well, I think, for 
the first attempt. I do not discover any grammatical in- 
accuracies, which are very common in juvenile productions, 
but there is a little inaccuracy in saying B these are the 
consequences,' when you have mentioned but one real con- 
sequence. 

" The great art of composition is to write easily and in- 
telligibly ; perspicuity is the first thing in writing ; if a per- 
son find that his meaning is obscure, he may be sure there 
is some defect in the attempt. You must not be grieved 
if at first your preceptor blots your pieces with correc- 
tions ; there is nothing attained without labor and care, and 
it is a happiness to have an able and faithful friend who 
will correct our blunders. 

" I am glad to find you disposed to get forward in your 
studies, but you must take care of your health, and remem- 
ber that we are not scholars in proportion to what we run 
over, but in proportion to what we understand and make 
our own. I have known some boys that have only studied 
one Evangelist better Grecians than others, who have run 
over the whole Greek Testament. You will follow your 
preceptor's directions ; but I wish you now, while you are 
so young, principally to attend to the languages. 

" And now, my dear son, I must repeat my admonitions 
and exhortations to you, to abhor that which is evil, and 
cleave to that which is good. It is a critical and impor- 
tant season with you. O, be watchful against forming any 
vicious habits ; resist the first beginnings of temptation. 
Fear the great name of the Lord your God, and do not al- 
low yourself to use it profanely upon any occasion what- 
ever, nor make those your companions who do ; keep your- 



LETTERS OF DR. BUCKMINSTER TO HIS SON. 75 

self pure ; never allow impure thoughts to enter your mind, 
or impure words to come from your lips. You have written 
so well against falsehood, that I hope you will never con- 
tradict your first attempt at composition in your practice. 
Treat all your superiors with respect, especially Madam 
Phillips, [the widow of the founder of the Academy,] and he 
obliging to her in little things as well as great, and be al- 
ways forward to oblige. Observe the Sabbath in public 
and in private, and let no morning nor evening pass with- 
out committing yourself to God, for his protection and 
blessing. If we lie down or rise up without thanking 
him for the protection of the night, or for the mercies of 
the day, we should not wonder if his blessing is with- 
drawn from us. 

" I say not these things to grieve you, but as my beloved 
son I warn you, and because I love you I admonish and 
exhort you, and wish you to be amiable, and virtuous, and 
happy." 

It must be recollected, in reading the next letter, that 
the boy was only eleven years of age. 

" January 5th, 1796. 
" My dear Son, — We are always glad to receive let- 
ters from you, whether their contents be more or less in- 
teresting, as they are pledges in some sort for your good 
behaviour. Children can have no friends so nearly in- 
terested in their welfare as their parents, and they should 
treat them with openness and filial confidence, and in every 
interesting matter seek their advice and direction ; while 
a child governs himself by principle and acts with dis- 
cretion he will have nothing to conceal from a kind par- 
ent. But when he means to give himself up to the guid- 
ance of passion instead of reason, he must seek other ad- 
visers than parents, and his intercourse with them will be 



76 LETTERS OF DR. BUCKMINSTER TO HIS SON. 

timid and reserved. I hope, my son, you will never get into 
the way of reserve with your parents, nor expose yourself 
to the hitter reflections of your own mind : young people 
may iind the young who will flatter their passions, and give 
them advice that may be more congenial to their feelings, 
but nature directs children to their parents for counsel. You 
know, in Scripture history, how badly it fared with Solomon 
for forsaking the counsel of the old man and following the 
advice of the young. You will find some persons who are 
profane, some who are obscene in their discourse, some 
that ridicule all religion, and some who have no principle 
of any kind. I hope, my son, you will be on your guard 
not to be corrupted by any of them ; the worst of them 
esteem those more highly whom they cannot corrupt, al- 
though they may affect to ridicule them ; and the estimation 
of one virtuous man which is secured by good principle 
and conduct is of more value than the pretended estima- 
tion of a thousand of the profane. 

" I send you Xenophon's Cyropsedia ; you must use it 
with care, as I hope you will all your books, bat especially 
borrowed ones. A soiled book is a suspicious indication 
of an idle scholar. I have never read ' The Retreat of 
the Ten Thousand.' It is a matter of indifference to me 
what particular books you study, provided they be such 
as are calculated to forward you in the object of all learn- 
ing, to be useful in life ; this should be our object, my son, 
to be useful to our fellow-men. As to the course of your 
studies I wish you to be directed by your preceptor. 

" We thank you for your wishes for a happy year, and 
all of us return them. That will be a happy year, my dear 
son, that is spent in a faithful attendance upon duty, and 
in the love and fear of God." 

" August, 1796. 
" My dear Son, — I was glad to hear by your letter that 



LETTERS OF DR. BUCKMINSTER TO HIS SON. 77 

you were better than when you wrote before. I hope you 
will pay attention to your health, that you will take a due 
degree of moderate exercise, and be careful of being too 
long exposed to the evening air. But especially take care 
of the health of your mind ; keep yourself pure and in- 
dulge no impure imaginations, no impure talking or jesting. 
I hope God will bless you and make you a blessing. 

" I have some agreeable intelligence to communicate to 
you this morning. You are no longer, my dear, without 
a brother. Your mamma had a fine son born this morning. 
You will wish to come home and see the young stranger. 
He will be to you a younger brother. God grant that you 
may be to him an example of every thing that is good and 
lovely in his sight. 

" You must remember, my dear son, that although, through 
the advantages you have enjoyed, you have made tolerable 
proficiency in learning, yet that you are very young ; only 
a boy ; and that you must not consider yourself at your 
own disposal : you must be careful of the connections you 
form, and not think because a scholar is older than your- 
self, or even a man, that therefore you may intrust yourself 
to his disposal. Sometimes older scholars have been the 
unhappy instruments of ruining younger ones by poisoning 
their minds and corrupting their hearts. Fear God your- 
self, and be a companion of those who fear him ; fear Him, 
my son, who seeth in secret, and from whom no darkness 
can conceal. Believe a father who loves you, the way to 
be comfortable and happy in life is to preserve a pure, open, 
and honest mind. 

" I send you herewith Priestley's Lectures on History 
and Policy, which your preceptor will direct you how to 
improve. You must be careful of it and not soil or deface 
it. A neat scholar is known by the appearance of his 
books. 

"Be careful, my dear son, to cultivate the fear and love 
7 * 



78 LETTERS OF DR. BUCKMINSTER TO HIS SON. 

of God ; forget not to pray to him daily, and commit all you 
do to him. 

" Your affectionate father, 

" J. BUCKMINSTER." 

The reiterated charges of his father to preserve his 
books with extreme care were partly from the consid- 
eration that most of the books of his advanced studies 
were borrowed from friends. There were at this 
time no American editions of Cicero, Sallust, and 
Xenophon, and the English prints of classics were far 
beyond the means of expenditure of a clergyman of 
the day. The delicate boy was subjected to many 
hardships in consequence of his father's limited means. 
From Exeter, and a part of the way from Cambridge, 
he was obliged to walk to his home to save the ex- 
pense of stage hire. The absolute need of boots and 
shoes ; the necessity of having the discarded clothes 
of the father cut down to fit the son, and ." old ones 
made amaist as good as new " ; all these petty material 
interests occupy many of the letters, and find a place 
in all. We cannot but feel a painful sympathy with the 
diligent boy, who, when he had saved all his pocket- 
money to buy a new pair of boots, finding it insuf- 
ficient, was forced to have his old ones patched. 

Joseph remained at Exeter Academy, under the in- 
struction of Dr. Abbot, more than a year. He was so 
thoroughly prepared in the Latin and Greek Grammars 
under the instruction of his father, and that of Mr. Amos 
Tappan of the Portsmouth Grammar School, that he 
had no occasion to spend time upon them at the Acad- 
emy. As he was only eleven years old, it may seem in- 
credible to young persons, who at that age are just be- 



Joseph's studies and readings. 79 

ginning the laborious task of learning the grammars ; but 
it must be recollected that, from the testimony of his 
eldest sister, he began to study the Latin at four years 
of age, and the Greek nearly as early. His father in 
one of his letters advises him, if his class is ciphering, 
to go over again with them what he had previously learnt 
of arithmetic, but he usually directs him to pay his prin- 
cipal attention to the languages. It was not with Joseph 
as it was with Dr. Johnson, who, when asked how he 
had acquired so accurate a knowledge of Latin, in which 
no man excelled him, answered that u it was whipped 
into him." Joseph was never punished while he was 
at the Academy. A record remains, kept by himself, 
of the books he studied at Exeter. They were the Greek 
Testament, the Iliad, and Xenophon's Cyropsedia, Hor- 
ace's Epistles, Sallust, and Cicero. There is still pre- 
served his translation of Cicero's Amicitia, and of a part 
of Sallust, in the round hand of the school-boy, bearing 
the rare corrections of the instructer. In the last quar- 
ter that he remained, he reviewed the Greek Testament, 
Cicero, and Virgil, and read Livy's Roman History. 
He also studied Blair's Rhetoric, and Morse's larger 
Geography. 

He kept, also, a record of the books which lie took 
out of the library of the Academy, for voluntary reading. 
The reading of a school-boy of eleven and twelve years 
may perhaps be interesting to those who are curious 
in the history of individual mind, and the writer may per- 
haps be excused for thinking that every thing is in- 
teresting in the formation of a mind so rare. The date 
is set down upon which every book is taken out and 
regularly returned. They were Rollin's Ancient History, 
16 vols. 8vo ; The Life of Cicero, 3 vols. 8vo ; Ken- 



80 Joseph's studies and readings. 

net's Roman Antiquities ; and D'Arnay's Private Life of 
the Romans. As books of amusement he has set down 
The Spectator, Moore's France, and Sir William Tem- 
ple's Essays. He was fond of reading romances, but 
rarely indulged himself in so attractive a pastime. 

That he devoured books with the greatest avidity ap- 
pears from an anecdote which remains well attested in the 
family. In one of the vacations he had procured Bos- 
well's Life of Johnson, in a quarto volume. He was 
standing leaning upon the mantel-piece when he began 
to read, the book resting upon the shelf. So complete- 
ly was he absorbed by that, to him, fascinating book, that 
he neither moved nor paused, even to eat, till he was 
wholly exhausted, and fainted from weariness. An anec- 
dote of the same kind is told of himself by Mr. Web- 
ster, only the book that fascinated him so completely was 
Don Quixote ; he neither paused to eat or sleep, so great 
was the power of that remarkable book upon his atten- 
tion, until he had finished the four volumes. • 

It was fortunate for Joseph that he was able in some 
degree to gratify his passion for reading in his father's 
house. Sir William Pepperell, as mentioned above, had 
left his library as a legacy to his grandfather Stevens. 
Dr. Stevens, at his death, bequeathed it for the use of 
the ministers of York and Kittery, but with directions 
that it should remain in possession of his son-in-law 
during his life, and then be for the perpetual use of the 
above-mentioned ministers. There were some hundreds 
of volumes. Among them were many valuable books, 
— Rapin's History of England in folio, with plates, a 
large collection of voyages and travels, the English clas- 
sics, etc., etc. 



PREPARATION OF JOSEPH FOR COLLEGE. 81 

1796. At the Commencement at Cambridge, in 

Aged 12. ]79 q^ Joseph had passed his twelfth birthday, 
and was wholly prepared to enter college ; but his father 
trembled to send him there while so young, and deter- 
mined to hold him back a year, and then offer him in ad- 
vance for the Sophomore class. At this time New Haven, 
endeared by old associations, by the long residence and 
the warm attachment of his father, was fixed upon as the 
college at which the son must receive his education ; 
and the great distance from Portsmouth increased the 
father's anxiety, and added its weight to the motives for 
keeping him back a year. In the mean time, the re- 
spective advantages presented by the two colleges were 
considerations of anxious solicitude and the subject of 
frequent debate. The father's fears of the influence of 
the liberal views of religion already suspected at Cam- 
bridge are expressed in more than one letter. That the 
son's inclination was decidedly directed towards Har- 
vard, appears from a letter written to a classmate who 
had left Exeter this year to enter that college. The 
letter is in a round, school-boy's hand, a close imitation 
of the copperplate copies for penmanship. 

" Exeter, Dec., 1796. 

"Dear Friend, — 1 cannot let slip this favorable oppor- 
tunity of writing to you, although I have so lately enjoyed 
the pleasure of your company. I will now endeavour to 
avoid the charge of not performing my part of the corre- 
spondence. Did you arrive safe at Cambridge ? I should 
be sorry to hear that the surprising activity of your Canta- 
brigian nag failed him in performing the journey. 

" I fear, my friend, I shall be deprived of the happiness 
of residing at the same university with yourself. The pleas- 
ure which I should enjoy in your company often rises to 



S 'J PREPARATION OF JOSEPH FOR COLLEGE. 

my view. I have remonstrated with my papa, but he 
thinks I shall enjoy greater advantages at the college for 
which he designs me. All men are influenced in a greater 
or less degree by prejudice, and I should not wonder if you 
were to think he had an uncommonly great share of it. 
But of this I will not pretend to be a judge. 

" My loss, occasioned by separation from you, has not 
yet been compensated. May you be always happy ! 
■• Affectionately yours, 

'•J. S. B." 

That Joseph's remonstrance did not amount to a very 
earnest opposition appears by a letter of the father, 
written ten days after this of the son to his young friend. 
in which he says to Joseph, — ; * Your last letter to me 
is a very laconic exhibition of your feelings, which seem 
to be keen enough, respecting your going to New 
Haven." 

In conformity to the strict obedience in which chil- 
dren were educated at that time, especially the un- 
questioning, unremonstrating subjection with which in 
our own family we were girt round and environed, prob- 
ably no other word ever escaped the lips of the son. 
and I am unacquainted with the motives which at last 
determined his father to send him to Cambridge. En- 
dowed as the son was with a joyous disposition and a 
serene temper, he probably would have gone with the 
utmost cheerfulness to New Haven. His delight is 
warmly expressed in another letter to the same friend, 
because he is not to be separated from the friendships 
he had formed at Exeter, but would enter with some 
of his fellow-students at Cambridge at the next Com- 
mencement. 



CHAPTER VII. 

JOSEPH ENTERS COLLEGE. HIS CHARACTER AS A STUDENT. 

LETTERS FROM HIS FATHER. 

1797. At the Commencement of 1797, Joseph was 

Aged 13. admitted, one year in advance, to Harvard Uni- 
versity. Upon which occasion the father's letters are 
again introduced. 

" Portsmouth, Aug. 10th, 1797. 

" My dear Son, — I hope by this time you begin to feel 
yourself a little familiarized to college and its customs, and 
that many of the things about which you were anxious cease 
to be subjects of anxiety. I left you rather abruptly, and I 
suppose, to you, unexpectedly, but I feared you would be 
more affected by a formal parting than by finding me gone 
without it. 

" You are now placed in a situation, my son, in which 
you must exercise care for yourself and the things you 
have with you, without depending upon others. You have 
hitherto boarded in a family where you have had kind 
female care ; you must now take that care yourself. Keep 
every thing in order; your clothes in their place, your 
books in their place, and be not in so much of a hurry 
as to leave them in confusion and disorder. Lock your 
trunk and your study, when you go out. Make a little 
paper book and put down all your expenses. You must 
bear half the expenses of the room, such as candles, etc. 
I suppose it will be customary to have some wine in your 



84 LETTERS WHILE IN COLLEGE. 

room, to offer to strangers. I hope it is not the custom to 
offer scholars or classmates wine when they call ; but when 
a gentleman or friend from out of town calls, it will be 
necessary. You appear to have a prudent, worthy, and man- 
ly chum ; who will, I hope, not impose upon your youth, but 
guide and direct you ; cherish confidence in him if you 
find him deserving, and avoid the beginning of any preju- 
dice or dissension. I would not have you mean, nor pro- 
fuse ; but entirely just in your part of the expenses. 

" Do not be imposed upon. Carry little money about 
with you.* Always remember to wash in the morning, 
oftener if need be. Comb your hair every day. Endeav- 
our to keep your clothes neat and tidy. When your clothes 
are returned from the wash, put them smoothly in your 
trunk and make a memorandum of them. 

" With respect to study, you will in the first place make 
yourself a thorough master of your recitations, and of the 
lessons assigned you. The time that you do not want for 
your recitations, this year, devote* to Hebrew and French. 
Mr. Pearson is a good man, notwithstanding the prejudices 
against him, and will be glad to see you often, and to give 
you any assistance you may want. Do not be absent from 
prayers or recitations for trifling causes. Never join in 
any disorders that idle youths may commence. Study to 
deserve the esteem and respect of the deserving part of 
college. Never be out late at night and spend not much 
time in playing on the flute. Do not play in study-hours, 
and play-hours will be better used in exercise, vigorous 
exercise, — walking and playing ball. Call frequently upon 
the Professors and go very often to see your dear mother's 
friend, Mrs. Dana. 

" Remember the advantages of the Sabbath when prop- 



* This advice seems almost superfluous, as I suppose the boy never 
had more than five dollars at one time. 



LETTERS WHILE IN COLLEGE. 85 

erly used. If your eyes do not fail, it will be a good habit 
to read the Bible in Greek, especially the New Testament, 
on the Sabbath. 

" I have been thus particular because you have never 
been so alone and I think my counsels may be of service 
to you. I place confidence in you, my son, and hope as 
you have begun you will go on to perfection, and not disap- 
point the hopes and expectations of your friends. 

" I have received the letter you wrote the day I left you. 
I do not recollect any thing to add, except to repeat the 
advice, and beg you to be a man. Command your feelings 
and don't cry at corrections that may be suggested to you 
at recitations, nor act as though unwilling to receive advice." 

It must be recollected that the boy is only thirteen 
years old, when his father advises him not to cry at being 
corrected. The quick sensibility that in boyhood showed 
itself in involuntary tears was never wholly conquered ; 
when not exhibited by tears, it often subjected him to 
unkind remarks from older and more self-possessed 
characters. 

A week only passed, and the counsels and advice were 
reiterated. 

" August 30th, 1797. 

" My dear Son, — I received your letter by Monday's 
mail with a great deal of pleasure, and hope before this 
you have received one from me that was written imme- 
diately after my return home, containing a great variety 
of directions upon matters that to you may appear small, 
but their influence is great; and you must be willing to 
have line upon line and precept upon precept ; receive them 
with the docility of a dutiful child from an affectionate 
and solicitous parent. You have no one to take care of 
you but yourself. Let me have confidence in you, that you 
8 



86 LETTERS OF DR. BUCKMINSTER 

will keep yourself out of danger and temptation and your 
study and appendages free from confusion. Keep your 
person and clothes in order and clean ; put every thing 
in its place and have a place for every thing. I am sorry 
you had to lay out so much for books ; for I hoped the 
money I left with you would do something towards de- 
fraying necessary bills that might arise. However, you are 
not to be stingy of necessary expenses, though your father 
is a poor man. Pay your full share ; only be careful of 
your money and keep an exact account. 

" Do not forget regular, manly exercise. I am glad to 
find you are attempting both Hebrew and French. You 
will overtake your class in a very little time, for you learn 
languages easily. If you do not get some knowledge of 
Hebrew now, it is not probable you will ever attain it ; and 
if your heart should be devoted to the profession, which, 
though not highly esteemed by men, is yet the most benevo- 
lent and honorable, you may find it of great advantage to 
you. 

" I am glad to hear that you are pleased with* your chum. 
I believe him to be a deserving young fellow ; but you must 
not have too sudden or unbounded confidence in any one. 
Form rules and principles for yourself that may be sup- 
ported by reason and revelation, and do not depart from 
them through fear of ridicule nor hope of obtaining favor 
from any one. Keep yourself pure. Treat all your fellow- 
students with respect and friendship, but do not feel as if 
your happiness depended upon the favor of any one, nor 
your misery upon any thing but the reproaches of con- 
science. Always treat the government with respect and 
attention. Never imbibe prejudices against any of them, 
nor join in any cabals against them. Never he an informer, 
but be equally careful not to be a supporter or encourager 
of any designs against the governors or governed. 

"Take care of yourself, my dear son, and be a good 
boy." 



TO HIS SON WHILE IN COLLEGE. 87 

"September 10th, 1797. 

" My dear Son, — The receipt of your letter by Mon- 
day's post gave us all pleasure, as it indicated your greater 
ease and enjoyment in your present situation. You are, 
I am sensible, the youngest boy in your class, but you must 
remember that you have enjoyed great advantages, and that 
wisdom is not measured by years, but by the opportunities 
we have had of acquiring it ; yet the recollection of your 
youth should make you modest and willing to bear the 
repetition of my advice : yet I hope it will be needless ; 
as you will form yourself to careful habits, and will some- 
times refresh your memory by perusing the letters I have 
sent you. 

" I am sorry you find it difficult to pursue the study of 
both Hebrew and French, and conclude you intend to re- 
linquish one of them. To direct your determination, let 
me suggest to you that this will probably be the only time 
you will have to acquire any knowledge of Hebrew, which 
is of some importance if you should choose one of the 
professions for life ; you may have another opportunity to 
get a knowledge of French ; besides, they are steady lads 
who. apply themselves to Hebrew, and I did wish you to 
associate and assimilate with such. Take these things into 
consideration, my son, and then judge which language to 
relinquish if you relinquish either. 

" If you knew how much we feel interested in you and 
your welfare, you would never be at a loss as to what to 
write to us. The most trifling circumstances, such as going 
to bed, and getting up in the morning, washing hands, 
combing hair, and brushing clothes, derive an importance 
from their relation to those we love. You say little in your 
letters about your chum. I hope you live together in har- 
mony and love, in mutual confidence and friendship, and 
that you are guardians and helpmeets to each other in your 
collegiate connection. 



SS LETTERS OF DR. BUCKIM1NSTER 

" How do you succeed in getting up for prayers ? If pos- 
sible, avoid being frequently upon the monitor's bill. Cher- 
ish a respect for the authorities of college, whatever you 
may hear said about them by idle or dissipated youth. 
You may be sure they are men of respectability, or they 
would never have been in the places they are ; treat them 
yourself with submission, and a proper respect, due as much 
to yourself as to them. Do not feel an unwillingness to be 
corrected in your recitations, nor show the superficial cox- 
combry that is said to belong to the Sophomore year. Do 
not be difficult as to commons. Take care of yourself, my 
dear boy, and of every thing that relates to you. 
" Your affectionate father, 

"J. BUCKMINSTER." 

'< November, 1797. 

" We are disappointed, my dear son, in not receiving a 
line from you to let us know how you succeeded in your 
return to Cambridge. We hope well, and that you are 
again settled in the routine of study and recitation. You 
must not be grieved nor surprised at my repeating my 
cautions, reiterating my counsels, to take care of yourself, — 
of your health, comforts, and morals. You may, perhaps, 
be more in danger this term than the last. You are more 
accustomed to college life, and may have less timidity and 
more confidence in yourself. Form to yourself general rules 
and principles of good behaviour, that you may have them 
to govern you in particular cases and emergencies ; and be 
not betrayed by unforeseen events into faults or errors, in 
consequence of not thinking. Let the virtuous and discreet 
be your chosen companions, and if you are constrained to 
be with others, let a manly dignity and propriety mark your 
conduct and be a silent reproof of theirs. 

" If you must at times hear the authorities of college re- 
viled and ridiculed, take no part in the ungrateful merri- 



TO HIS SON WHILE IN COLLEGE. 89 

ment; or at least, do nothing to add to the piquancy or 
amount of it. Keep yourself pure, my son, in these your 
years at college, and remember that God is the inspector 
of your public and private conduct and knows your most 
secret thoughts and actions. Resolve not upon any thing 
of consequence, without making it the subject at least of one 
night's sleep, and one evening's prayer. Govern yourself, 
my son', by principles, and attach yourself to thern rather 
than to men. Approve what is excellent in all, and what 
is otherwise in none. 

" You tell us you spent Thanksgiving at Waltham. We 
thought you would, and are glad of it. When gentlemen 
of distinction invite you to their houses, I hope j^ou behave 
with modesty and propriety, — that you are not forward to 
speak or to give your opinions unasked. Mr. Lyman, when 
he was here, expressed an interest in you and wished you 
to visit him often. I am willing that you should walk up 
to Waltham some Saturday afternoon, and return to Cam- 
bridge Monday morning. Follow the maternal advice of 
Mrs. L. You are young, my dear son, too young to be at 
your own disposal, placed at a distance from your natural 
guardians, from the friends that are most sincerely and 
tenderly interested in yGur prosperity and welfare ; you 
are exposed to temptations, and may be surrounded by 
those that seek to ensnare rather than to guard and guide 
you ; and though we have confidence in you, that we trust 
will never be disappointed, we cannot but be jealous over 
you and anxious for you. Remember, my son, you are 
passing through a very critical period of life. Cherish the 
fear of God, and commit yourself daily to his care and 
keeping. Respect yourself. Do nothing in secret or in 
company that will make you ashamed of yourself. Be 
governed by principle, and not by caprice. Dare to stand 
by, and do, and say that which is right, though you should 
stand alone: and if sinners entice thee, consent thou not; 
8* 



90 LETTERS OF DR. BUCKMINSTER 

if they ridicule you, bear their ridicule manfully, covered 
in your conscious integrity; thus you will have peace of 
mind, the approbation of the wise and good, protection from 
above, — and the love of your affectionate father, 

" J. BuCKMINSTER." 

"June 16th, 1798. 

" My dear Son, I believe I said nothing to 

you in my last letter upon the subject of your giving up 
mathematics. I would not by any means have you do so. 
Study those and all other recitations as well as you can, 
and if you cannot distinguish yourself, yet something will 
remain that will be of advantage to you in your future life : 
besides, you must not imagine that you cannot distinguish 
yourself. You have been apt to think so in all the new 
studies that you have undertaken, and the very thought 
has a tendency to cramp your exertions and paralyze your 
efforts. A scholar or a soldier should think nothing be- 
yond his reach, till he has made the most vigorous attacks. 
I hope you will not get into a discouraged frame of mind 
about your studies, nor from that, or any other cause, grow 
negligent about them. 

" I feel anxious for you, my son, and would do every 
thing in my power for your good. If you should deviate 
from the paths of virtue, and become an immoral youth, 
you would hasten my gray hairs, and bring them down 
with sorrow to the grave. I beg you would cherish the 
fear of God, and a sense of your accountableness to him, 
and forget not to pray to him daily. You must not follow 
the great or the many to do evil, nor take your estimate 
of things from the practices of men, but from the unerring 
rule of God's word. May God bless }^ou, my son, and 
sanctify you. May he keep you from the snares of youth, 
and the lusts that war against the soul. Be no stranger to 



TO HIS SON WHILE IN COLLEGE. 91 

your closet, but with filial love and trust commend your- 
self to God, for his guidance and blessing. 
" Your affectionate father, 

" J. BUCKMINSTEE." 

From the foregoing letters it would appear that the 
father was not aware of the most serious dangers that 
menaced his son in his college life, which, from some 
disclosures lately made, arose from the skepticism then 
prevailing in the college, — from the unsettling of the faith 
of every rank in society, through the prevalence of the 
influences of the French Revolution. The old founda- 
tions of society were shaken, all reverence for antiquity 
and for social order and religious faith nearly destroyed. 

Whoever has read Judge Story's graphic description 
of the college, and of the student's life there, in the re- 
cently published Memoirs of Dr. Channing, will be 
aware of the influences that surrounded this youngest 
son of Alma JVIater. Joseph was just four years younger 
than Dr. Channing, and two years after him in college. 
He was even smaller and more youthful in his appear- 
ance than his distinguished relative, and all the influence 
that he could have acquired must have been purely in- 
tellectual. He entered the Sophomore class, and was 
only one year in college with Channing, and was prob- 
ably wholly unknown to him except through the medium 
of Washington Allston, the friend of both and the class- 
mate of Channing. 

He was a member of the principal college clubs, — 
the Phi Beta, the Hasty Pudding, and the Adelphi, 
before which last he delivered an address in his Senior 
year, U Upon the Benefits of Diversity in Religious Opin- 



Joseph's kank in college. 

who are acquainted with the principles by which college 
honors are awarded, by those that he received. At 
the November exhibition of the Junior year, he had 
part in a forensic assigned him; in the succeeding June 
exhibition, an English oration ; " and the second part 
in rank, but the first in interest," at the Commencement 
when he graduated. 

It was in college that he acquired a passionate love 
of Shakspeare, and it was during the winter of his 
Senior year that Cook was performing his principal char- 
acters at the Boston Theatre. Joseph resisted every 
allurement of youthful pleasures, but he could not deny 
himself that which was to him the highest intellectual 
treat. He walked frequently of an evening into Boston, 
went to the theatre, and walked out again at midnight 
over the scarcely completed road leading to West Boston 
Bridge, often with the snow and mud far above his an- 
cles.' 

He was not so entirely cut off from all social influ- 
ences while in college as is the case with youths less 
fortunate in friends. From Mrs. Dana, the relative of 
his mother, and her family, he received the kindest wel- 
come at his weekly visit, which his father exacted from 
him. I use that word because, to the diffidence and 
bashfulness of boys of his age, social visiting is always 
a severe trial. And to the kindness and condescension 
of that excellent family he was indebted for a cordial wel- 
come, that removed the barriers between youth and age, 
and made his intercourse with them easy and delightful. 

His father also required him. once in each term, to call 



* It should be observed, that the law requiring the undergraduates 
-tain from theatrical amusements was not then in oneratiom 



LETTERS OF HIS FATHER. 93 

upon the several college professors, Pearson, Tappan, 
and Webber. These visits, although, from obedience 
to his father, punctually paid, appear from Joseph's 
letters to have been regarded with great repugnance. 

The son had now entered upon his second year at 
Cambridge, and the letters are much less minute in their 
advice. He seems to have obtained the entire confi- 
dence of his father. The only difficulty was that of 
meeting the expenses of a college life. The frugal boy 
is still obliged to walk a part of the way to meet the 
stage on his journeys to and from Cambridge, and every 
letter contains advice to save and take care of his clothes. 

1798. "I send you inclosed a three-dollar bill, which 
I hope, with what money you have, will be sufficient to pay 
all necessary expenses till you get home. Your dress will 
do well enough for exhibition. I hope you will command 
attention by something better at that time than your dress. 

" There are many clubs plausible in their institution, that 
are prejudicial in their operation and consequences. I know 
not of what kind those are of which you are a member, 
but I know no club which ought at college to be very ex- 
pensive to the members, nor can they be beneficial if they 
are so, for they must exclude the poor scholars, who are 
usually the best." 

« March 18th, 1799. 
" My dear Son, — I have been much more remiss in 
writing to you this term than I intended or approve ; it is 
not that I am less anxious or concerned about you than 
I used to be, nor that I love you less ; but being immersed 
in various cares and attentions besides that of my ministry, 
I can hardly find time for writing. I hope you continue 
to behave well, preserving yourself free from all those prac- 



9 1 LETTERS OF DR. EUCKM1NSTEK 

tiers which offend God and wound the conscience of the 
unhardened sinner. It is my heart's desire and prayer to 
God for you that you may be saved, and in order to this, 
that you may be made to see your need of salvation, and 
behold Jesus Christ as the author of it, committing your- 
self into his hands to be sanctified in the name of the Lord 
Jesus, and by the Spirit of God. You are entering upon 
the stage of life, not merely in days of great license of prac- 
tice, but in great prevalence of infidelity. To despise and 
reject revelation, not so'much by attempting to disprove it 
by argument as to drive it away by wit and ridicule, is now 
the fashion, and you will meet with many men of this 
stamp in your literary and social interviews with those 
who may be such fools as to wish there were no God. But 
though you may not feel able or willing to oppose their 
raillery, I pray you to clasp firmer the hope of sinners 
in Jesus Christ. You have known the Scriptures from your 
youth ; I hope you have sometimes felt their power to assist 
and comfort, 

" I do not mean to give you in letters the evidences of a 
revelation ; but no tolerable account can be given for the 
origin and existence of such books as the Gospels but their 
being the communication of Jesus Christ to men, and a still 
less tolerable one can be given of the present existence of 
the Christian Church in the world. Hold fast your integri- 
ty and your love of God, and believe that they who honor 
him he will honor, and they who despise him he will lightly 
esteem. 

" T^he name of your new little sister is Olivia. You ask 
to spend next vacation at Mr. Freeman's. If your clothes 
did not render it necessary for you to come home, I should 
be willing you should spend one week at Judge Dana's, and 
one week at Mr. Freeman's; but we shall be glad to see you 
at home. 

" Your affectionate father." 



TO HIS SON WHILE IN COLLEGE. 95 

» May, 1799. 
" My dear Son, — Your letter and its contents came 
safe to hand by Friday night's mail, from which I conclude 
you got safely and agreeably to Cambridge, and found all 
things well. You seem to be concerned for my health, 
and inquire anxiously about my sufferings from the disease 
with which I was threatened when you left home. I write 
sooner than I otherwise should, because I can tell you that, 
after a week of considerable pain, I am now pretty well, 
and have gone through the labors of this blessed day with 
less fatigue than usual. I am glad to see you anxious for 
your friends, and to enter with feeling into their circum- 
stances, and I hope you will cherish and cultivate a filial 
and fraternal spirit more and more. You have parents that 
love you and are deeply concerned for you, and 3-ou have 
sisters that love you, and are deserving of your love ; and 
though, from Providential circumstances, you have run far- 
ther before them in the race of knowledge than you have 
of years, yet you should cherish an esteem and affection 
for them, and do what in you lies to make them feel the 
distance less, and love the brother more. It is good and 
pleasant for brethren and sisters to dwell together in unity, 
and to be strangers to the passions of envy or contempt, 
or the emotions that border on such passions. An elder 
brother distinguished by advantages should be a mentor 
to the little circle of home, and bear and cover the weak- 
ness and infirmities of those who are accidentally less in- 
formed than he. 

" I do not say these things, my son, from an apprehension 
of any especial need of such caution in your case with re- 
spect to your dear sisters, much less to criminate or reproach, 
but they are thoughts that may deserve your consideration 
and render you more useful and happy. 

" I have suggested that I was pleased at your anxiety 
for my health, and desire to do every thing to contribute to 



96 LETTERS OF DR. BUCKMINSTER. 

my relief; but you must remember that, however dear or 
necessary I may be to my children, I am mortal. Lean 
upon no parent's arm that must be confined to Portsmouth 
while you are at Cambridge, or who, however warm his 
affection and ardent his wishes, is weak, erring, and mortal. 
Put your trust in God, who is unchangeably the same, every- 
where present, and able to do exceeding abundantly for us. 
The revelation of his will, and our duty, is supported b^ 
evidence that has proved satisfactory to some of the great- 
est and the wisest of our race, who were accustomed not 
to believe without evidence. Let me exhort you, my dear 
son, to make this revelation your counsellor, and you will 
find it a light to your feet and a lamp to your path. 

" From some remarks you made while you were at home, 
and the interest they had in your feelings, I feared you 
were in danger of the fashionable folly of placing rea- 
son before revelation. Be on your guard, my son, and let 
a thus saith the Lord, or a plain Scripture declaration, 
silence your objections and satisfy the craving of your 
mind, — and 

' Where you can't unriddle, learn to trust.' 

" Take care of your clothes, your health, your morals, 
your soul ! 

" Your affectionate father." 

The caution to his son in his last letter, not to despise 
the ignorance of his sisters, would have been necessary 
to a brother less considerate and affectionate ; for how- 
ever devoted Dr. Buckminster was to the best interests 
of all his children, he certainly cherished the Old Tes- 
tament or Hebrew ideas of the greater importance of the 
culture of the male than the female intellect, which was 
the prevailing sentiment of Puritan New England. Every 
faculty of the sons of clergymen must be cultivated, for 



PURITAN IDEAS OF FEMALE EDUCATION. 97 

they, perhaps, would be shining lights in the candlestick 
of the Church ; but the daughters, they were only helps, 
meet for man. The whole amount of a woman's learn- 
ing was but enough to enable her to read and spell the 
English language, and to keep the family accounts. 
Reading was taught well to every one of his family by 
the practice of reading the Bible morning and evening 
at family prayers, each person, beginning with himself, 
reading two verses in succession. The servants were not 
exempted from this custom, and every boy and girl ad- 
mitted to service in the family learned, at least, the art 
of reading well. 

From the prevailing notions which preceded and 
reached almost to the time of which I write, the female 
mind of New England was left almost wholly without 
culture. The daughters of clergymen had some little 
chance of intellectual improvement, by living more in 
the presence of books, and having occasional inter- 
course with the learned of the time ; but that only in- 
creased the embarrassing peculiarity of their position. 
A country minister stands upon almost the lowest step 
of social life, in regard to the pecuniary means of in- 
tellectual culture ; but in intellectual endowment, cul- 
tivated manners, and social influences, he must stand 
with the highest, and hold intercourse with the most 
cultivated. His family must share his position, what- 
ever it is, and his daughters must form tastes for refine- 
ment, for intellectual intercourse, and for cultivated so- 
ciety, which the total want of pecuniary means pre- 
vents them afterwards, as our society is constituted, 
from enjoying. And only in peculiar and fortunate 
cases are they able to indulge the tastes they have too 
early formed. 

9 



9S PURITAN IDEAS OF FEMALE EDUCATION. 

The wholly secluded education that Dr. Buckminster 
gave his daughters might have arisen from such consid- 
erations. Although he was active and instrumental in 
establishing better schools for girls in Portsmouth, he 
did not allow his daughters to go to them, nor to asso- 
ciate much with society of their own age. Perhaps 
some lingering fondness for the kind of education their 
mother had enjoyed remained in his mind, and he might 
have hoped to reproduce a likeness to her in his 
daughters. But the cloistered retirement of her chil- 
dren was not peaceful, like hers. However nun-like 
their seclusion, it was not for the purpose of reading or 
praying ; it was filled with domestic duties and the care 
of younger children. Book-learning was the last neces- 
sity ; they had far other and humbler duties to learn, 
and to perform. With an invalid wife and a small 
salary, the moments for indulging a studious taste in bis 
daughters were few and far between, and for the most 
part stolen. Such a family was indeed a school for 
learning the humble and passive virtues. Patience, in- 
dustry, and carefulness were all taught, but a knowledge 
of the world wholly excluded. Happy was it for him 
that they learned contentment in their frugal, stoical 
home, when, only a few years after, these elder daugh- 
ters were left, by the death of his wife, the guardians of 
his comfort, and the mothers of his younger children. 
There was then full use for the knowledge that could 
not have been found in grammars and dictionaries ; 
and the very small portion of elementary instruction 
they had received in the learning usually taught in 
schools served only to stimulate their exertions, in 
after life, to acquire what had been denied to their 
younger years. 



LETTERS WHILE IN COLLEGE. 99 

Joseph had now entered upon his Senior year, and his 
father had acquired so much confidence in him, that his 
letters had become much less frequent. 

"July, 1799.. 

" From what cause it arises I cannot say, but I have 
never been so concerned about you, my dear son, since 
you went from home, as I have this term of your ab- 
sence. Scarce a night passes but I am perplexed and 
troubled in my sleep by some of the troubles and diffi- 
culties in which you are involved. I hope it is not an 
intimation that you are becoming less careful and regular 
in your conduct, or less watchful against the seductions 
of the world. You are passing through a period of life 
that will probably give the complexion to the whole of 
your future life. O my son, be watchful and prudent, 
preserving an ever-living consciousness of the Divine om- 
niscience and omnipresence. I hope you will continue to 
deserve the good opinion of the government of the College, 
and pay them all due respect. I know they are the friends 
of the Alumni, and you will one day think so. 

" You propose hiring a horse sometimes to ride, lest you 
should forget your riding. I would observe to you, that it 
is a kind of knowledge not easily forgotten, and you cannot 
hire a horse at Cambridge without considerable expense. 
If you ride out in company, you will be in danger of meet- 
ing with accidents. I do not forbid your riding, but I advise 
you to be sparing of this amusement. I hope you will 
continue to be steady, uniform, and studious, and improve 
the little remaining time you may have at Cambridge in 
endeavouring to carry yourself forward in preparation for 
usefulness in your future life. Be virtuous, wise, and pure. 

" I fear it will be too much for you to think of walking 
all the way home. If you will come to Newbury, and if I 
can possibly leave home, I will come in the chaise for you ; 



100 ANXIETY OF DR. BUCKMINSTER 

but you must let me hear from you again before vacation. 
I am sorry you are not disposed to write more particularly 
to your best friend. 

" We all send you a caution not to be too venturesome 
because you have a little knowledge of horsemanship. - 
" Your affectionate father, 

"J. B." 

The anxiety of Dr. Buckminster during the whole 
of his son's course through college was so extreme, and 
his charges to the boy to keep himself pure from youth- 
ful vices so often reiterated, that they may, to some 
minds, imply a more than usual distrust of the purity and 
integrity of his son. It can be explained without casting 
a shadow of suspicion upon the ingenuous boy. 

It may be recollected that it was observed, in the 
early part of this work, that Yale College, while Dr. 
Buckminster was there, was particularly open to the 
charge of indifference to religious and moral observances ; 
and added to his own recollections of college life were 
fears arising from the tender age of his son, and the 
danger of his being influenced by the example of the 
older students. It was, too, the habit of his mind, aris- 
ing probably from his religious creed and the high ideal 
standard he had formed for them, to doubt the strength 
of principle of his own children. While his parental ex- 
pectations demanded every thing from them, his religious 
creed forbade him to hope for any thing but a natural 
amiableness, which, in the view of his creed, was of no 
value. The writer does not recollect a single instance 
of commendation of Joseph or of his elder children. He 
became more indulgent as he advanced in life, and his 
younger motherless children called forth all his tenderness. 

Joseph had now entered upon his last term ; the time 



RESPECTING HIS CHILDREN. 101 

drew nigh when he must leave college, and his father 
began to feel anxiety about his future course. He had 
just completed his sixteenth year. He was very small 
and youthful in his appearance. Schools w r ere offered 
to him in various country places, but his youth and still 
more youthful stature — he looked scarcely more than 
twelve — made his father unwilling that he should enter 
upon school-keeping as the head and sole master. The 
place of usher to Mr. Hunt in the Boston Latin School 
w 7 as proposed to him, by friends in Boston, as an eligible 
situation. 

" June, 1800. 

"My dear Son, — I have this day received your letter, 
and am glad you were disposed to enter so fully into your 
feelings and wishes, to N your best friend. Respecting the 
principal subject of your letter, the disposal of yourself after 
you leave college, I scarcely know what to write to you. 
There are many things in the situation you propose that 
would be doubtless agreeable, if you could be placed in it, 
and they would not be unprofitable nor dangerous to a 
person of more years and experience, of established prin- 
ciples, confirmed habits, and pious affections ; — such as 
the diversity of amusements, the variety of character and 
company, the floods of books, the proximity to Cambridge, 
etc., etc. But I feel a little anxious lest they should be 
ensnaring to you, and a means of blighting the seed which I 
hope is springing up to a respectable harvest in your future 
life. The theatre has infatuating charms to a lively imagi- 
nation ; the company of the dissipated, both male and 
female, is seductive to those who have not closed their teens. 
You have four years, my son, before that period arrives. 

" If you should ever know the heart of a parent, you will 
know it cannot cease to fear. Parents are ready to say, ' We 
have you in our hearts to live and to die for you,' and often 
9* 



102 LETTERS OF DR. BUCKMINSTER. 

afterwards strange changes take place in the feelings and 
conduct of their children. 

" If I were sure you would have virtue and firmness to 
withstand the temptations that would assail you in Boston, 
and prudence and piety enough to choose the company of 
the wise, and wisdom enough to improve the advantages 
you would find there, I should more readily consent to your 
being there than anywhere else. Ask the opinion of judi- 
cious friends. Converse freely and independently with Mr. 
Lyman. 

u The part assigned to you at Commencement is, I con- 
clude, agreeable to you. If a subject is not given to you, 
you must endeavour to fix upon one that will suit your taste 
and years, and multum in parvo must be your, study. 

"We all love you, — your father dearly. 

" J. BUCKMINSTER." 

"June 16,1800. 

" My dear Son, Mr. Abbot says it would be very 

agreeable to him to have you with him in the Academy, if 
there should be an opening there. I do not altogether like 
the situation in the Boston school* Mr. Hunt would proba- 
bly often be absent, and the government, as w r ell as the in- 
struction, fall upon the usher. The salary at Boston may 
sound great, but the expense of board and other expenses of 
living w T ould leave you but a small dividend at the end of the 
year, I imagine. You had better lie upon your oars, and 
wait for the opening of Providence, than to be precipitate. 
Behave yourself well, and you will find employment. I 
doubt not Providence will provide kindly and generously for 
you if you wait filially upon the God of Providence. 

"It is a little unexpected to be called upon for money. 
I fear the advantages of your societies will not pay the ex- 
pense of meeting. The extra expenses of your family ex- 
ceed mine. I inclose five dollars, of which, and all others, 
I hope you will be able to give a good account. 



LETTER OF REV. DR. LOWELL. 103 

"Let your last weeks at College, my son, be your best ; 
such as you can look back upon in future with unmixed 
satisfaction. 

" Your affectionate father." 

Joseph's course through college had been marked 
with extreme industry, and the most careful regard to 
the regulations and laws of the place. Of this it may be 
sufficient to remark, that he never incurred any college 
censure, and was not even fined till the last term of the 
Senior year. He preserved his themes and exercises, 
in number thirty-two. Many of them are humorous, a 
few poetical ; but the marked progress in excellence 
from the first to the last is very striking, showing how 
much he was indebted to careful culture. 

I am happy to be able to add to this account of his 
college life the testimony of a valued friend and class- 
mate, the Rev. Charles Lowell, one among the very 
small number of that class who have survived to the 
present time. 

" I first saw Mr. Buckminster in the summer of 1797, 
when we were examined together, with three others, for ad- 
mission to the Sophomore class of Harvard College. He 
was then but a little more than thirteen years old ; a boy, 
with a sweet countenance, whose every lineament was 
stamped with genius and intelligence, — in age a boy, but in 
intellect and learning mature far beyond his years. I was 
myself but little older, yet I well remember his examina- 
tion, and, as well, that none excelled him. One incident that 
I have not forgotten, though it is nearly half a century since, 
indicated the keenness of his sensibility, and the laudable 
ambition to excel which never left him. He had some hesi- 
tation in answering one of the questions propounded to him, 



104 LETTER OF REV. DR. LOWELL. 

— I feel assured it was but one, — and he burst into tears. 
One of the professors — it was Dr. Pearson — kindly came 
to him, reassured him, and told him he had no cause to be 
troubled. 

" Thus commencing his college course standing in the 
first rank, he sustained that rank unwaveringly to the end. 
As a classical scholar he had no superior, if, indeed, he had 
a rival. As a belles-lettres scholar he was unequalled. 
1 In rhetoric and composition,' one of his classmates writes 
me, ' I do not hesitate to say that he had the best taste and 
tact of any in the class, and which even existed when we 
first began our exercises in English composition ; and I think 
he had more uniformly the marks of approbation from the 
professor than any other. He was the best reader, and, in 
my opinion, the best declaimer, in the class. 1 ' He was 
decidedly,' he further says, 4 a hard student, and a great 
general reader. He was well read in history and geography, 
and in the periodical works of English literature.' 

" In the exact sciences and metaphysics, his immature 
age, or a want of taste for them, prevented his acquiring the 
same distinction ; though another classmate tells me that he 
recollects the surprise he felt at Buckminster's recitations in 
Euclid. He could not understand how one so young could 
demonstrate problems so difficult. But the truth was, he 
had extraordinary powers, and his conscientiousness, as 
well as his ambition and love of» learning, led him to task 
those powers to the utmost. He studied hard ; he was 
faithful, and never, I am confident, went into a recita- 
tion without doing all, in the preparation, that he was able 
to do. 

" If he were equalled or excelled in mathematics or 
metaphysics, yet, take him for all in all, I have no hesita- 
tion in saying he stood preeminent, — the admiration and 
pride of his classmates. He was much noticed by distin- 
guished scholars in the upper classes, and was fond of their 



LETTER OF REV. DR. LOWELL. 105 

intercourse. The attentions of the late Judge Story to him 
are particularly remembered. 

" In his disposition he was social, but it never led him 
into any excesses. Fie had a fine taste in music, and ; his 
flute and his song,' as well as his conversation, are spoken 
of by a classmate with much enthusiasm, and must be well 
remembered by all who survive him. 

" He had strong feelings and predilections, it may be 
strong prejudices. He was frank and open as the day, ex- 
pressing his sense of what he deemed censurable sometimes 
warmly and very independently, but never, I think, with 
harshness. He escaped college censures, not because he 
courted popularity with his instructers, or descended to what 
was mean and dishonorable, but because he did his duty. 
Consecrated to God from his birth, and early intended for 
the Christian ministry, he was never forgetful, as I believe, of 
his high destination. His fidelity and diligence in his studies 
were not more remarkable than his exalted moral purity." 

Another classmate says : — 

" Buckminster had strong feelings, prejudices, and predi- 
lections, and indulged both his likes and dislikes to a great 
degree ; but on the subject of the latter he was prudent, 
and seldom gave way to vituperation. But he was so 
young in college, and was so interesting in his person, that 
there was a species of halo that surrounded his character, so 
that most of us were carried to a degree of enthusiasm in 
our admiration of him, and we were hardly willing to make 
a candid comparison of him with others. 

" With respect to his tastes, I well remember that he 
was very fond of Shakspeare and the drama, and a visit to 
the theatre was the greatest gratification he could receive. 
I do not think his argumentative powers were of the highest 
order ; nor that he was fond of engaging in discussions of 
that nature." 



106 QUICKNESS OF SENSIBILITY. 

Another gentleman, afterwards an intimate friend,* 
speaks thus of his first appearance at college : — 

" I well remember his first appearance at an exhibition in 
his Junior year. His extreme youth, and the spirit and 
talent and gracefulness of the performance, excited much 
admiration. 

6 f I was in the President's study when he sent for him to 
announce to him his part for Commencement. He seemed 
much surprised, burst into tears, and said he should never 
be able to do it well. The good Dr. Willard, with the most 
benign countenance, replied, in his homely way, 'If the 
government, Buckminster, did not think you would do it 
well, and do credit both to yourself and to the College, they 
would not have given you this honorable part.' " 

The quick sensibility, which uttered itself so often in 
his early youth in a spontaneous burst of tears, became, 
after he was able to conquer its outward expression, an 
extremely attractive feature in his character. It appear- 
ed in an intuitive perception of the feelings of others, 
and an eager sympathy, which made him enter with zeal 
into all objects of benevolent action. But I think it may 
be said that he was never rash or precipitate. He 
united in a remarkable degree quickness of feeling with 
thoughtfulness and deliberation of judgment. He early 
adopted his mother's habit of not finally deciding upon 
any thing that deeply affected his feelings, till after he 
had made it the companion of his pillow. 

It indicates the public sentiment of the college, when 
we observe that the exhibition oration upon Enthusiasm 
is almost wholly confined to military enthusiasm, depre- 

* William Wells, Esq., of Cambridge. 



COMMENCEMENT ORATION. 107 

eating the example of France, in which he uses this 
metaphor : — ct Like the lovely form of Apega, a single 
embrace of France discloses the dagger in her breast." 
The subject of the Commencement oration, " The Lit- 
erary Character of Different Nations," was too compre- 
hensive for the limited portion of time necessarily allowed 
to one of many speakers. There are a few still alive 
who remember the impression Joseph then made on the 
audience u by his small, youthful figure, contrasted with 
the maturity and extent of his knowledge, the correct- 
ness as well as brilliancy of his imagination, and the pro- 
priety and grace of his elocution." A short extract 
may be pardoned from this production of a boy of six- 
teen, as the literature of Germany was hardly then 
beginning to be known in this country. 

" The literature of Germany is remarkable for its uni- 
versality. Exquisite poetic fictions, abstruse metaphysical 
disquisitions, mathematical subtilties, and all the graces of 
fine writing, flourish with exuberance amid the aristocracy 
of the German Empire. A host of illustrious names contend 
for the palm of excellence. Before the present century [the 
eighteenth] German literature was confined to theological 
wrangling, or to compilations from the works of others ; the 
wheels of literature moved heavily, but of late years they 
have rolled with such boldness and rapidity, that some 
Phaeton must have seized the reins. 

" Italy ! There are the graves of great men ! Yes, 
where once the warm language of freedom breathed from 
the lips of the Gracchi, the poor Catholic now mumbles his 
Aves and Pater-Nosters. In that forum whose benches 
once were filled with venerable judges, whose walls once 
echoed the voice of Cicero, the owl now sits in judgment, 
and listens to the eloquence of the wind. The race of Ital- 



10S COMMENCEMENT ORATION. 

ian littcrati is nearly extinct. Like the mammoth of Indian 
tradition, they have traversed the Po, the Arno ; they have 
spread their mighty power over other countries, but in Italy 
their bones only are to be found at this day." 

As he repeated these passages, his animated and 
beautiful countenance varied with every change of topic, 
which gave to it an eloquence it is impossible to for- 
get ; and when he ceased, the applause came not alone 
from generous youths, but from grave and gray-headed 
men. 

It may seem almost impertinent to the reader to dwell 
thus upon the production of a youth of sixteen. We 
will close the account of his college life in the beautiful 
language of another : # — " Amidst the temptations of the 
place, he gave v an example of the possible connection 
of the most splendid genius with the most regular and 
persevering industry ; of a generous independence of 
character, with a perfect respect for the governors of 
the College ; of a keen relish for every innocent enjoy- 
ment, with a fixed dread of every shadow of vice. It 
may be said of him, as has been remarked of a kindred 
genius, f " that he did not need the smart of guilt to make 
him virtuous, nor the regret of folly to make him wise." 

* Thatcher's Memoir. t Pres. Kirkland, of Fisher Ames. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

JOSEPH S. BUCKMINSTER. ASSISTANT IN EXETER ACADEMY. 

THEOLOGICAL STUDIES. METHOD OF STUDY. LET- 
TERS. 

1800. No arrangement could have been more agree- 

Aged 16. a b] e D0 t n t0 father and son than that by which 
Joseph was appointed Assistant in Exeter Academy. 
It was returning to his second home, almost again within 
sound of the parental voice, and to the family of Dr. Ab- 
bot, where there were friends who had cherished his ten- 
der boyhood, when, at eleven years old, he entered the 
Academy as a pupil, and who were now ready to encourage 
and strengthen and fortify his youth. He always looked 
back upon this period of his life as full of profitable in- 
struction, rich in friendships, and filled with religious 
as well as literary associations. It was now, if at any 
one period more marked than another, that deep relig- 
ious impressions were made upon his mind. He pro- 
posed to join his father's church, and was accepted, 
without any doubts of his father as to the sincerity or 
fitness of his profession. 

" My dear Son, — I proposed your desire to join the 
Church the last Lord's day, and if you continue to wish to 
give in your name as a follower of Christ, and explicitly 
to confess him before men, the season for attending to the 
solemn transaction will be the Sabbath after next. The 
10 



110 RELIGIOUS PROFESSION. 

transaction you have in view, my dear son, is a solemn and 
interesting one, but it is a clearly incumbent duty, and there- 
fore its solemnity ought not to discourage us from it, but 
only excite the most solicitous concern to perform it under- 
standingly, sincerely, and with all our hearts. Give your- 
self up unreservedly to God through Christ, not only to be 
saved by him, but to be ruled by him and to be his subject 
and servant for ever ; relying upon the power of his grace 
and the promised influences of his spirit to perfect his 
whole work in your heart. Count the cost, consider the 
price, and be strong in the Lord, and in the power of 
his might. If he keep you, you will stand, — your own 
strength is weakness. Pray much, pray often, my son, and 
God be with you. 

" Your little brother was baptized last Sabbath, to whom 
we gave the name of William. It was a solemn and a joy- 
ful Sabbath." * 

This is the only letter of the father's that remains 
during the period in which the son was Assistant at the 
Academy. Joseph's proximity to Portsmouth, and very 
frequent visits to his family, enabled his father to remit 
that constant watchfulness of parental oversight. He 
had learned also to trust and confide. Confidence must 
be earned and won, even in the relation between father 
and son ; and the son had now won, by his lovely and 
obedient life, the full and perfect confidence of the anx- 
ious and perhaps too exacting father. 

Of many prayers preserved among the papers of the 
son, the following appears to have been written about 
this time. 

" O God ! pardon my foolish fears and my unreasonable 
* William died at the age of ten months. 



SELF-CONSECRATION. Ill 

desires. I have vainly regretted that which was not worthy 
of remembrance, I have feared other evils than that moral 
evil which can alone injure an immortal soul. The exter- 
nal circumstances of my life I leave submissively at thy 
disposal, for thou knowest what is best for me, but I beseech 
thee earnestly for that wisdom which cometh from above. 
O God ! thou hast looked upon me from the throne of thy 
compassion and the time was indeed a time of love. If 
the events of my life should be disastrous, if my exist- 
ence should become every day less worthy of possession, 
if all the blessings that hold me to it should loosen and 
drop away, still the gift of Jesus, the hope of pardon and 
perfection, the least glimpse of immortality and of living 
in thy favor, would be themes of thankfulness which could 
never be exhausted. O God! should I live, may I live 
to thee ; may I cherish every moment that passes, and con- 
secrate it to thy honor and the service of my fellow-men. 
Assist me, unworthy as I am, in the performance of my 
daily duty. Strengthen my weakness ; enlighten my under- 
standing ; direct my inquiries and awaken more and more 
my zeal in the search of truth. May the fear of man, of 
the honored and beloved, fade away before the love and 
search after truth, — thy truth, which is the most precious 
thing, the inestimable jewel, before which all other things 
grow dim and perish." 

The personal recollections of the writer may now take 
the place of record and tradition. She was now old 
enough to be able to appreciate what she saw in her broth- 
er, and to recollect with distinctness the impression which 
his youthful person and his intellectual manliness made 
upon the circle of his friends. When the blessed day 
came round that brought him to the parental roof, there 
was seen a peculiar exhilaration, from the wrinkled vis- 



H'2 HOME VISITS. 

age of the old nurse, who caught him to her aged arms, to 
the smoothed brow of his father, to whom the presence of 
his son always brought the halcyon of peace. He never 
praised or flattered, or showed any undue partiality, but 
the mere presence of Joseph shed a tranquil satisfaction 
through the whole family ; and yet it was nothing that he 
said or did that diffused this spirit of content around. It 
is related of Silvio Pellico, that, when he merely walked 
through the wards of his prison, his presence was felt, 
by the instantaneous change in the aspect of the prison- 
ers. The ferocious became human, the violent gentle, 
the melancholy smiled ; such was the power of a beauti- 
ful nature. In Joseph it was the perfect freedom and 
fidelity of his manners to his feelings ; the transparency 
of thought, word, and deed ; we felt in the presence of 
a true being ; he seemed surrounded with that pure 
living ether, in which painters enshrine their Madonnas 
and Saints. There was such a peaceful unison in the 
beaming sweetness of his countenance and the unpre- 
tending gentleness of his demeanour, he seemed in- 
deed an angel in disguise, come to diffuse a heavenly 
fragrance over the homely and common cares of our 
every-day life ; and if there was no pause in domestic 
duties, there was a holiday in every heart. 

The reverence that he had for his father was not 
mingled with reserve and fear, as is apt to be the case 
in families educated under the severe Puritan rule ; there 
was something so genial, so joyous, in the son, that the 
veil fell from the father's mind in his presence, and 
they met as equals and confidential friends. 

A young person who was much in the family at this 
time, surprised at the ease with which he laid aside the 
Puritan reserve of children towards their parents, ex- 



FILIAL AND FRATERNAL RELATIONS. 113 

claimed, on one occasion, " Why, Joseph says any thing 
to his father." And on the principle of saying any 
thing, when his father informed him of his intention of 
marrying for the third time, he answered, " Why, papa," 
for he always preserved this childlike appellation, u I 
believe you interpret the Apostle's injunction, to be the 
husband of one wife, as a command never to be with- 
out a wife." His father smiled, and said he thought 
it a good interpretation. 

The distance in years, as well as in intellectual prog- 
ress, between himand his younger sisters was too great 
for them to feel that familiar confidence with him that 
he so much desired. They looked up to him as to a 
superior being, while he made every effort to remove 
their timidity and to increase their confidence in his 
friendship and tenderness. Every thing that he left 
in 'his humble home when he went to Exeter was cher- 
ished with miserly care, — the simple drawings and prints 
that he pasted on the wall of his bedroom, the chest 
where he kept his boyish tools ; and even a small twig 
that he stuck into the soil, in a very inconvenient spot, 
was never allowed to be pulled up, and a large tree, 
only a few years ago, attested the careful affection with 
which " Joseph's tree " had been regarded. 

These months spent in the instruction of youth at the 
Academy he always regarded as of peculiar value, as 
leading him to review and fix in his mind his own early 
classical studies, and as giving him that accuracy and 
readiness in elementary principles in which the prepara- 
tory schools of the country were at that time chiefly 
deficient. He often repeated, that he considered it a 
singular advantage to a young man to be able to fix that 
10* 



114 THE INSTRUCTOR OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 

which he had himself just learned more firmly in his 
memory by teaching it to another ; thus deepening the 
first footprints of learning, before they were effaced by 
the successive tracks of other sciences. 

His extremely youthful appearance while a teacher 
must have presented a strong contrast to the young men, 
far older in face and limb, as they were in years, than 
their instructor ; and this gave him at first an embarrass- 
ment that appeared in real diffidence and enhanced the 
youthfulness of his aspect. He was almost discouraged, 
as appears from one of his letters ; but he had already 
learned never to shrink from any duty that he had delib- 
erately undertaken. 

At this time he had the honor and privilege of being 
the instructor of Daniel Webster. Mr. Webster, in a 
manuscript memoir of his early life, says, — " My first 
lessons in Latin were recited to Joseph Stevens Buck- 
minster, at that time an assistant at the Academy. I 
made tolerable progress in all the branches I attended to 
under his instruction, but there was one thing I could not 
do, — 1 could not make a declamation, I could not speak 
before the school. The kind and excellent Buckmin- 
ster especially sought to persuade me to perform the 
exercise of declamation like the other boys, but I could 
not do it. Many a piece did I commit to memory 
and rehearse in my own room, over and over again ; 
but wben the day came, when the school collected, 
when my name was called, and I saw all eyes turned 
upon my seat, I could not raise myself from it. Some- 
times the masters frowned, sometimes they smiled. Mr. 
Buckminster always pressed and entreated, with the most 
winning kindness, that I would only venture once ; but 
I could not command sufficient resolution, and when the 



THE INSTRUCTOR OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 115 

occasion was over I went home and wept bitter tears 
of mortification." 

What interesting thoughts does this description ex- 
cite, with all the gathered associations of so many years ! 
The youthful teacher winning the future statesman to 
exert that unsuspected power which has since had such 
wide-spread and powerful influence. Did he discern 
that noble intellect, that exalted genius, then concealed 
in the bashful reserve of his pupil ? The sensibility that 
made Webster shrink from display would have indi- 
cated to a penetrating eye the hidden power ; and the 
persevering kindness with which the instructor urged 
again and again that he would only venture once proves 
that he was conscious there was much concealed that 
only needed encouragement to bring out and make him 
know his latent power. Mr. Webster was older than 
Buckminster. Had the teacher been permitted to live 
to observe the splendid career of the pupil, with 
what pride would he have looked back to the moment 
when his youthful voice soothed and encouraged the 
diffidence of one afterwards so eminent ! 

As soon as Joseph was established in the Acad- 
emy, he began the preparatory studies for the profession 
which seems from his earliest consciousness to have 
been his free, unbiased choice. The author of the 
beautiful memoir of him already .quoted says : — " The 
process of study and of thought through which he passed 
in forming his theological opinions cannot be too rhueh 
praised. It is strange that a principle so natural and 
so constantly observed in all the other sciences, that 
of beginning with what is simple and clear, and gradually 
proceeding to that which is doubtful and dark, should 



11(> METHOD OF STUDY. 

have been so often reversed in the study of theology. 
He avoided as much as possible all the controverted 
doctrines of divinity, till he had given himself a thor- 
ough initiation into the evidences of religion, natural 
and revealed ; examined the nature and degree of the 
inspiration of the sacred writings, in order to determine 
what laws of interpretation are to be applied to them ; 
taken a general survey of the questions connected with 
the criticism of the Bible ; and sanctified all his investi- 
gations by the habitual study of the spirit of practical 
religion. Having by these inquiries, together with an 
accurate knowledge of the original languages, prepared 
himself for the interpretation of the more difficult and 
obscure parts of Scripture, he commenced the study 
of them with the aid derived from a comparison of the 
opinions of the best commentators, of different sects and 
opinions. He now permitted himself to consult the 
writers on dogmatic theology, and he has often told 
me with what eager curiosity, with what trembling in- 
terest, he read Taylor and Edwards on original sin, 
and pushed his researches into those higher speculations, 
where so much caution is necessary to prevent the mind 
from becoming enslaved to a peculiar system, and shut 
for ever against the light of truth." 

There is a note among his manuscripts describing the 
manner in which he studied the Scriptures, which may 
be worth describing. He began by the preliminary ques- 
tions relating to connection with other passages ; the 
time and place and cause of the passage, and the cir- 
cumstances of the people and nation. Then he com- 
pared the various readings and settled the meaning of 
the words, as well as he was able, by accurate translation, 
division, and punctuation. Then, by philological notes, 



METHOD OF STUDY. 117 

concise and explanatory, and by comparing commenta- 
tors, he endeavoured to educe the best meaning and the 
true doctrine. Lastly, he added practical and moral con- 
clusions. 

The above is quoted as giving a comprehensive view 
of his method of study through the whole of his short 
life. At Exeter he was but just beginning. He had 
laid out a most extensive plan, which it would have taken 
a much longer life to complete. He thought himself 
but a beginner upon the outer threshold of knowledge, 
and the wide horizon constantly opening before him and 
constantly enlarging in advance of his eager footsteps. 
He began every study with a most devout and humble 
spirit ; and, of a very large number of prayers preserved 
among his papers, many have reference to and were 
written at the commencement of particular studies. Of 
the result of his conscientious application of his powers 
his sermons are now the only memorial, and it will be 
seen, as we go on with this memoir, what advance he 
made even in the short path he was permitted to travel. 

But his professional studies, although holding a high 
place in his esteem, were not allowed to encroach upon 
the time which it was his duty to devote to the Academy. 
He felt a warm interest in its reputation, and entered 
into a correspondence with gentlemen who were ac- 
quainted with the English schools of the highest rank. 
In a letter to the late John Pickering, written at this 
time, he says, — " The institution established here has, 
of late years, from its ample endowments and from other 
causes, such a degree of credit and respectability that 
the trustees and instructors find it in their power to take 
the lead of other academies in the country, and to estab- 
lish for themselves any course of study and system of 



118 



CORRESPONDENCE. 



instruction which they please." He received an an- 
swer from Mr. Pickering, and from Mr. King, then our 
ambassador, who had two sons at Harrow school, an 
ample account of the course of studies at both Harrow 
and Eton schools. This was not a duty required of 
him, but it shows the generous ardor with which he pro- 
moted the welfare of every worthy object. 

That he was at this time a diligent student appears 
from a journal, in which the books he read are recorded, 
with remarks upon them. Unfortunately, a great part of 
this journal is kept in a short-hand character. There is 
a record of nearly three months in the journal, written 
out in plain English.* 

A letter of this period written to Mr. Frank Williams 
affords the first intimation of his religious views and 
preferences. 

« Sept., 1801. 
" My dear Friend, — If you had searched the recesses of 
my heart, you could not have selected topics of correspond- 
ence more dear than those which filled your last letter. 
The Chapel service was ever anticipated by me as one of the 
richest sources of improvement which Boston, so fertile in 

* From November 1, 1800, to January 20, 1801 : —Priestley's Har- 
mony of the Gospels, Parts 1st and 2d. Cave's Primitive Christianity. 
Whiston's Josephus, 4 vols. Studies in Hebrew. Made extracts 
from Priestley and Josephus. Jew's Letter to Voltaire. Grotius de 
Veritate. Priestley's Corruptions of Christianity ; twice. Do. Plain 
Account of Lord's Supper; also, Kippis's Sermon on the same subject. 
Made an abstract of Bythner's lnstitutiones Chaldaicaa. Read Dean 
and Otis on Prosody. Read the Pursuits of Literature. Read Latin, 
and about six pages of extracts from Xenophon's Cyropaedia in Dal- 
zel's Col. Gr. Maj. I was confined by illness one fortnight, during 
which time I read nothing but the history of Sir Charles Grandison. 
Brought from home Beza. Leighton's Crit. Sacr. Butler's Analogy. 
Newton on the Proph. Locke's Paraphrase. I desire to be thankful 
that I have been able to do so much. 



CORRESPONDENCE. 119 

such sources, could afford. The sublime simplicity of the 
Liturgy ; the accuracy, elegance, and at the same time the 
solemnity, of the style in which it is composed seem at once 
to reconcile us to the ceremony of its forms and its repeti- 
tions, and exalt the soul irresistibly to feelings of devotion. 
Add to this the deep and full tones of the organ, not when 
sounding the wild fugue of an executioner, but swelling the 
notes of celestial praise ; and where is the soul so narrow, 
so sordid, that it perceives not an expansion, an enlargement 
towards more exalted worlds ? The soul is borne along 
without effort, on the full tide of song, as if itself were dis- 
solving into music, or, to give you a better idea of an inde- 
scribable sensation, we feel that we almost wish to die, to 
dissolve into sound. 

" But how shall I express to you my regard for the man 
who fills the desk ? — in private life so charitable, so benevo- 
lent, so catholic ; so full of the finer feelings of the soul ; 
richly adorned with knowledge ; full of the most rational 
candor, with an excellent taste, and, united to all this, a 
judgment entirely independent; not parsimonious of re- 
proof, but gentle as a parent in the application. Devoted 
to the young, like Socrates, he has often had an Alcibiades. 
You acknowledge his remarkable pulpit gifts, the perspi- 
cuity of his discourses, the solidity of his reasoning, the 
ingenuity with which his sentiments are defended, the gen- 
eral weight of the instruction that his sermons contain. 
Eternal happiness attend him, ' my guide, philosopher, and 
friend ' ! 

"But, my dear F., I have ever found, where there is so 
great a disparity of age as between Mr. Freeman and my- 
self, though there may be profound respect and a chastened 
familiarity, there is still wanting that full congeniality and 
unrestrained mutual effusion of sentiment that exist between 
those of more equal ages. 



ISO LETTER OF MRS. ABBOT. 

" I confess to you I was very much pleased with some 
passages of your letter which I was not prepared to expect 
from your connections and habits of life. To obtrude a pious 
sentiment or a religious impression, when we know it will 
be made the sport of ridicule and insult, is not a merit or a 
duty, but only an impertinence. Who would introduce an 
Apostle to the gaming-table ? But to bear witness to our 
Creator when circumstances demand, and to avow our be- 
lief when it is attacked, or when occasion justifies, is no less 
the honor than the duty of a young man. I have often found 
that the exclusive society of men of this world leaves me 
little disposition to cherish the few sparks of piety which 
have been kindled in my breast. In the midst of such 
society our religious honor, if I may so speak, grows dull ; 
a sarcasm against Christianity hardly wounds us, our testi- 
mony to the truth becomes more feeble. This, I say, I have 
witnessed within myself, and forgive me if I was thus more 
easily induced to believe it of others." 

To his residence in Exeter at this time Joseph was 
indebted for many valuable and long-enduring friendships. 
That of the venerable Principal of the Academy and his 
family were among the most precious acquisitions of his 
life. After the lapse of nearly fifty years, Mrs. Abbot 
writes of him thus : — 

" The relation in which he stood to us while Assistant at the 
Academy was that of a most cherished and tenderly beloved 
friend ; and although not a member of my family, yet no one 
was ever welcomed with more heartfelt joy around the domes- 
tic altar than this favored son of promise. His very presence 
brought with it a gentle and joyous exhilaration. After the 
lapse of almost half a century, and with the mental infirmi- 
ties of age pressing upon me, I find it difficult to recall in 
detail the many anecdotes which, perhaps, an earlier period 



FIRST ATTACK OF ILLNESS. 121 

would have enabled me to retain ; but the time-hallowed 
impression of his social and intellectual resources can never 
be forgotten." 

He was indeed, as his venerable friend expresses, " the 
son of promise and the son of hope." He had just 
completed his eighteenth year. He had been borne 
along from year to year upon his father's hopes and 
prayers ; he had passed through all preceding trials, and, 
although so young, his character for all purposes of ex- 
cellence was fixed and decided. He had entered upon 
that course of never-ending progress in virtue and knowl- 
edge, from which there was now no danger of his turning 
aside ; he had begun the race upon that path whose light 
shineth brighter and brighter unto the perfect day ; dawn- 
ing honors began to blush around him ; loving friends 
stood ready to witness his progress ; his father relaxed 
his anxious brow, and began to thank God for this " son 
of promise " ; when suddenly, as by an arrow from the 
cloudless sky, he was struck down by the fatal malady 
that followed him afterwards, almost unrelentingly, to the 
close of his short life.* 

His illness excited universal sympathy in the Academy, 
and the writer well remembers the consternation which 
spread in the little circle of home, when the news of this 
distressing event struck upon the hearts of parents and 
sisters. While some anxious friends looked upon this 
visitation as the wreck of all their hopes, and others 
urged the immediate relinquishment of all mental effort, 
and a total change from a studious to an active life, — 
while his father bowed submissively, but with stricken 
heart, to the " sovereign will of God," — the son was 

* His first attack was in the Academy, in the autumn of 1802. 
11 



122 FIRST ATTACK OF ILLNESS. 

calm and undismayed. From a passage in his journal 
we learn that he endeavoured to discern the designs of 
Providence in this dispensation, — to look upon it as a 
check to all worldly ambition, and, whatever his future 
success, as a perpetual lesson of humility. It was not 
from ignorance, nor from insensibility to the appalling 
nature of the malady, or the tremendous consequences 
to which it might lead, that he received the stroke thus 
calmly. t How little they knew him who imagined it was 
from ignorance, or from any thing but the humblest 
acquiescence in the will of God, the following extract 
from his journal shows. 

" Another fit of epilepsy. I pray God that I may be pre- 
pared, not so much for death as for the loss of health, and 
perhaps of mental faculties. The repetition of these fits 
must at length reduce me to idiotcy ! Can I resign myself 
to the loss of memory, and of that knowledge I may have 
vainly prided myself upon ? O my God ! enable me to 
bear this thought, and make it familiar to my mind, that, by 
thy grace, I may be willing to endure life as long as thou 
pleasest to lengthen it. It is not enough to be willing to 
leave the world when God pleases ; we should be willing 
even to live useless in it, if he, in his holy providence, should 
send such a calamity upon us. O God ! save me from 
that hour ! " 

The passage above was never intended for human eye, 
but after reading it we are deeply impressed with the 
manliness of his future course. It was, indeed, the most 
striking trait in his character. He never referred in 
any mariner whatever to his malady. It was never an ex- 
cuse from any, the utmost, mental exertion. It was never 
allowed to diminish his usefulness, and hardly to impair 



LETTERS TO A CLASSMATE. 123 

his cheerfulness. Only the sister who lived with him, 
and whose watchful eye was scarcely ever closed, knew 
how often his attacks occurred, and how he shook off 
the languor and lassitude they left, and with serene brow 
armed himself for the waiting duty. 

Some extracts from letters to a classmate remain, of 
this period.* 

"Exeter, Sept., 1801. 

" Dear Friend, — My feelings and habits are so much 
changed since I wrote you last, that I have hardly one pas- 
sion in common with those which dictated my former letters, 
except that of affection for you, which I hope to retain amid 
all the reverses of life. Your last letter, though couched in 
the gentlest language, was a severe reproach of my negli- 
gence in suffering a correspondence once so interesting to 
languish in suspense. But it has ever been my fault to be 
too much the slave of time and circumstance, and to suffer 
the frequency of correspondence to abate without any dimi- 
nution of regard to my friends. My last letter to you, which 
I have not to this day completed, I had wrought up with 
considerable pains. It was a summary of arguments used 
to confute Mr. Hume's assertion of the impossibility of prov- 
ing miracles by testimony. As I had begun it as much for 
my own satisfaction as for your perusal, as fast as I matured 
a paragraph I copied it into the letter. When this ingens 
opus was nearly completed, as it lay loose upon my table, it 
was by some mischance torn and mutilated, and rendered 
wholly useless. About this time my mind began to be oc- 
cupied with the idea of coming here, and my situation since 
has left me neither the disposition nor the ability to resume 
the subject. 

" It is so long since I have made any effort in the way of 
composition that the news of your having written two ser- 

* Rev. Joshua Bates, D. D., late President of Middlebury College. 



124 LETTERS TO A CLASSMATE. 

mons really alarmed me. Go on, my friend, and prosper, 
and may the God of truth lead you into all truth, and 
give you understanding in all things. As for myself, I 
feel my literary enthusiasm abate by this change in my 
situation ; the spoils of ancient and of modern learning are 
snatched out of my hands, and he who once vainly and am- 
bitiously aspired to the name of a scholar is now reduced to 
teach beggarly rudiments to the child, or to hammer the 
higher branches into harder heads. The poor moments of 
leisure which I enjoy will hardly admit of any close applica- 
tion, and if the approach of winter does not strengthen my 
mind, with my body, I shall soon be obliged to look back 
upon my past life and say, ' Fin ! ' O my friend ! of all 
the maladies of the mind melancholy is the worst. It is at 
once the parent, the offspring, and the companion of idle* 



" If you ask what has been my course of reading since I 
have been here, I could scarcely answer, as it has been with- 
out order, without interest, and without effect. I have read 
about a hundred pages of Latin, about thirteen in Greek, 
and the one hundred and nineteenth Psalm in Hebrew, 
and consulted the Greek Testament about a dozen times. I 
have made out to get through Montesquieu's Rise and Fall, 
and one volume of Sully's Memoirs. 

" If possible, I will spend a day with you in the vaca- 
tion, and we will see each other face to face. I love 
better to converse than to write. If I should hunt up the 
originals of my last letter, I will reduce them to some order 
and send them. 

" Farewell ! Yours, with unabated regard, 

" J. S. B." 

From the above letter it appears that the change from 
the careless freedom of college life to the somewhat 
irksome duty of teaching the beggarly rudiments was at 



LETTERS TO A CLASSMATE. 125 

first not without its effect in checking the serenity of his 
disposition. He suffered at first from that which is 
always to men of rich endowments a vexing and irksome 
employment. But he was able to convert it into a 
source of mental improvement for himself, and into an 
elevating and satisfactory occupation. 

Another extract from a letter of this period to the 
same friend follows : — 

" Exeter, March 1st. 
"Indeed, my dear friend, the circumstances of your set- 
tlement evince that you still retain some of the wisdom of 
the children of this world. I rejoice at it, because I think 
that, by being relieved from the pressing cares of a scanty 
subsistence, you will have leisure to devote to those pursuits 
which are at once the duty and the dignity of a minister. 
The age calls loudly for able defenders of Christianity. The 
wild boar threatens to tear down the hedges of our vineyard, 
and the laborers are ignorant and inactive ; they know not 
how to use their tools for the culture of the vine or the de- 
fence of the vineyard. I hope, my friend, when the husband- 
man cometh and asketh for the fruit, we may all be able to 
produce some of the richest clusters. When I think of the 
duties and opportunities of a minister of the Gospel, the mark 
to which they should press forward seems much more ele- 
vated than the attainments of many of our clergymen would, 
lead one to expect. Let us endeavour, my friend, to mag- 
nify our office, that it may, by the blessing of Heaven, prove 
at least a barrier to that inundation of infidelity on one side 
and enthusiasm on the other which seems to be sweeping 
away all that we hold valuable. 

" My reading has reference to the study of divinity, as 
far as my little leisure will admit. My principal progress 
has been in the Latin and Greek languages. But I have not 
the suitable books to prosecute such a course of study as I 
should wish to mark out. 1 ' 
11* 



CHAPTER IX. 

Joseph's residence at waltham. — theological stud- 
ies. CORRESPONDENCE WITH HIS FATHER UPON HIS 

RELIGIOUS OPINIONS, AND UPON HIS ENTRANCE ON THE 

MINISTRY. PURPOSE OF RELINQUISHING HIS CHOSEN 

PROFESSION. 

1603. In the midst of the perplexity arising from 

Aged 19. tne father's reluctance that his son should con- 
tinue the laborious charge of instructor at Exeter and 
at the same time the mental excitement of prepar- 
ing for his profession, Providence opened a way, and 
the kindness of that excellent relative, Theodore Ly- 
man, suggested the means, by which he could be re- 
lieved from the instruction at the Academy. Joseph 
had ever found in him and in Mrs. Lyman almost the 
interest and solicitude of parents. He had sometimes 
.spent a part of his college vacations under their hospi- 
table roof, and in the interval between his leaving col- 
lege and entering upon his duties at Exeter, their house 
had been to him a home in parental kindness, and far 
more than his own humble home in the attractions of 
luxury and the access to refined society. These ex- 
cellent friends now interposed, and, while they desired 
that he should live in their family, with leisure to pur- 
sue his studies, proposed that he and his father should 
be relieved from the mortification of dependence by 



RESIDENCE AT WALTHAM. 127 

the light task of instructing Mr. Lyman's two sons, 
and preparing the elder for college. 

Tt was in the beginning of the year 1803 that he en- 
tered Mr. Lyman's family as an instructor, and he 
then wanted a few months of completing his nineteenth 
year. His residence at Exeter had given firmness and 
dignity to his manners, and he had gained in stature 
and in manliness of appearance. When the family re- 
moved to Waltham he accompanied them ; and in that 
beautiful residence, surrounded with all the soothing 
and strengthening influences of nature, he advanced both 
in vigor of body and clearness of perception and in- 
tellect. 

Amid the scenery of this lovely retreat, where land 
and water are so sweetly blended, and the hand of taste 
has almost created another Eden, it seems as though 
he must have felt the peace of Eden. With the 
luxury of leisure, the early morning hours for study, 
and the quiet evening for reflection, soothed by the 
murmur of the brook that ran near by, in which the 
peaceful stars were reflected, the perfumes of fra- 
grant shrubs and the songs of birds blending with the 
waving of the grass upon the gracefully undulating lawns, 
it would seem as if the whole year must have been one 
long holiday of tranquil happiness. And so it would 
have been, could the kindness of disinterested friend- 
ship and the society of the refined and the cultivated 
have made it so. We learn from passages in his jour- 
nal that this year of outward peace was one of great 
mental trial. It does not appear what was the cause 
of the conflict, but we can only infer that it was con- 
nected with the growing difference of his religious opin- 
ions from those of his father, which he knew must at 



1*28 THEOLOGICAL STUDIES. 

length be made known, and occasion that beloved fa- 
ther extreme pain. We do not know what secret con- 
flicts were going on in the soul amidst outward tran- 
quillity. The great battles of the spiritual life are usually 
fought alone, and in silence. It is not while the whole 
energies of the mind are employed in sustaining the 
weight of the conflict, that descriptions of the battle 
are given. It is afterwards, when they can be looked 
back upon with calmness and with collected thoughts ; 
— and he did not live to draw lessons for others from 
the work in his own soul. That which appears out- 
wardly is what must long before have been ripening in 
the mind, and all that is seen is the fruit that falls from 
the tree of life. " The world hears only the rustling 
of the leaves, beneath which the ripening fruit is con- 
cealed." 

It was at this time, as appears from his journal, that 
he made a thorough examination of the Trinitarian, 
Socinian, and Arian hypotheses upon the person and 
character of Christ, reading the standard Trinitarian 
writers, and Priestley's History of the Corruptions of 
Christianity, the Apostolic fathers, the contest of 
Priestley with the Monthly Review, and Bishop Hors- 
ley"s Tracts. His journal gives a very full account of 
these studies, and, could his own copies of the works 
have been preserved, we should be able to see by re- 
marks and references how faithfully he compared and il- 
lustrated the various subjects. While ensased in these 
studies he received the news of the death of Priestley, 
and wrote in his journal : — " Perhaps for the variety and 
universality of his acquisitions he may be placed at the 
head of the learned of the eighteenth century. Partv 
politics, that bane of every thing great and good, have cast 



EXTRACTS FROM HIS JOURNAL. 129 

a shade over some parts of this great man's character ; 
but I believe that posterity will do justice to his integri- 
ty, as well as his talents. But rather than lament a 
loss of such magnitude, let the friends of rational relig- 
ion and religious liberty bless God for granting our age 
such a strenuous and learned friend, and for continuing 
him so long, the admiration and glory of science and 
of religion in its various departments. " 

He says in a letter to his father, about this time, that 
he has read and thought upon the subject of the Trini- 
tarian hypothesis almost to distraction. The result of 
his inquiries at this time seems to have been, that he 
rejected Priestley's view of the pure humanity of Jesus, 
and also the hypothesis of a Trinity in Unity. He 
seems to have adopted the belief of the preexistence 
of the Saviour, and of the connection of his life and 
death with the pardon of sin, while repentance and 
a holy life were also necessary to insure the favor of 
God. 

An extract from the journal of this period shows the 
great admiration he felt for another work which he had 
just studied with attention. 

" February 22. Finished Hartley this evening. I have 
not read the works of Bacon, Newton, or Aristotle ; but if 
I may be allowed to judge from the impression which this 
work has made upon my own mind, it is the most wonderful 
work ever completed by one man. Acute, ingenious, origi- 
nal in his theory, clear and decisive in his facts, deep but 
impartial in his reasonings, unbiased in his conclusions, he 
presents us with a work, the unassisted, but complete, pro- 
duction of one mind, explaining all the usual phenomena 
of mind from a simple and undeniable principle, that of 
association ; and by this clew guiding us through the mazes 



130 THEOLOGICAL STUDIES. 

of metaphysics and of morals. In fine, every part of his 
work is the part of a consistent but stupendous whole. 
Though the theory of vibrations may be wholly separated 
from the system, it is most ingeniously interwoven with it. 
The second volume is peculiarly interesting to the theo- 
logian, as it vindicates the ways of God to man. It contains 
the only hypothesis which satisfactorily illustrates the in- 
troduction of evil and the nature of human actions ; and, 
to crown the whole, a rich and unusual vein of piety runs 
through the work, which cannot fail to recommend it to the 
serious Christian. Thus I have ventured to record the 
superficial decision of my feeble judgment. If I should 
dare to point out the weaker parts, I should mention the 
chapter on the terms of salvation, and some few passages 
in the evidences of Christianity and some remarks on Evan- 
gelical counsels. I do not think his account of the love 
of God either exaggerated, enthusiastic, or fanciful, espe- 
cially when he so often acknowledges that it is hardly at- 
tainable in the present life. His notions of refined sel£ 
interest and its pleasures are not easily understosd, and are 
very inadequately explained ; and there seems to be little 
propriety in making the moral sense a principle of action, 
distinct from the principles of benevolence, piety, and 
rational self-interest. Of the notes of Pistoricus, it is 
enough to say, that they are worthy to accompany the work 
on which they comment." 

The profound admiration and respect that Joseph 
felt for Dr. Freeman has been already mentioned. 
The latter being connected by marriage with his father, 
he frequently invited the son to visit and pass weeks at 
his house ; where his influence insensibly won upon the 
mind and heart of the young man, so that he became 
in some degree involved in the design of Dr. Freeman 



CORRESPONDENCE WITH HIS FATHER. 131 

to associate him with himself as a colleague, and finally 
to leave the labors of the Chapel pulpit to him. He 
had obtained a promise from him, that, with the consent 
of his father, he would immediately assist him in reading 
the Liturgy, and, as soon as he was licensed, he would 
preach in his desk. When these circumstances came 
to the ears of his father, they probably presented the 
first certain confirmation of his fears, that his son was 
imbibing the liberal sentiments of Unitarians, or cc So- 
cinians," as those who embraced Dr. Freeman's views 
were called. Some misgivings naturally arise as to 
the wisdom or propriety of making public letters, which, 
like the following, revive the remembrance of an ancient 
strife, and expose feelings and fears over which death 
has sealed its calm silence. Such documents admit of 
an unfair use in the sectarian strife which has not yet 
ceased. But generous and considerate minds will ac- 
company their perusal with a candid commentary, and 
will smooth over the seeming harshness of human judg- 
ments with the gentler spirit of Christian charity, which 
they who feel their own need of it will ever be ready 
to extend to the sincere and good. The struggle which 
is to be exposed between earnest and serious convic- 
tions, formed through thought, study, and prayer, and 
the tender sensibilities of filial love, grieved even by 
dissent from a father's opinions, is too sacred a matter 
for cold, controversial dispute. The revelations here 
made may serve as an intimation of the gentler feelings 
which were involved in the more passionate and conten- 
tious issues opened in our doctrinal warfare. 

" Dec. 3d, 1803. 
" My dear Son, — I have seen with anxiety, for a very 



13'2 CORRESPONDENCE WITH HIS FATHER. 

considerable time, your partiality to particular persons, and 
have feared that your happiness would depend too much 
upon the place of your destination. You should not think 
any persons or place necessary to your happiness. You 
should realize that the Divine favor and approbation are 
the great prerequisites to happiness, and endeavour to be 
prepared for any place to which God shall call you, with the 
manifest tokens of his favor. If your years and experience 
were such as to render it prudent to settle in the ministry, 
and you had qualified yourself in the judgment of those 
who license candidates, and you had made an experiment 
of your gifts in less splendid and populous places than 
Boston, I should not object to your supplying Brattle Street 
desk, as they have desired ; though I think the situation far 
from eligible for a young minister who would act in all 
things with a wise reference to the account which he must 
at last desire to give ' with joy, and not with grief.' 

" As to the manoeuvre in School Street, for I can call 
it nothing else, as it wears a singular complexion, so it ex- 
cites singular emotions. I fear you have suiFered your 
great partiality for Mr. Freeman as a man to warp your 
judgment and seduce your heart respecting some of the 
important doctrines of our holy religion, and the founda- 
tion of our hope as sinners. Could he have taken such a 
step, unless he had believed it would be agreeable to you ? 
Could he have been so ungenerous as to reduce you to the 
situation, so painful to your feelings as a son, which he must 
have known, without saying any thing to your father ? I 
feel myself under obligations to Mr. Freeman and his 
family for kindness to me in past days of distress ; but if 
they are to be cancelled at such a premium as the delicacy 
of conscience of my son, or of his being ensnared into 
his system or principles, it would have been better for me 
to have died without their sympathy. Could he have pro- 
ceeded so far, if he had not been possessed with the per- 



CORRESPONDENCE WITH HIS FATHER. 133 

suasion that you were favorable to his opinions ? — opinions 
which, in my view, annihilate the hope of every sinner, and 
destroy all the energy of the Gospel to sanctify and renew 
the soul. Could he natter himself that a descendant of the 
venerable and firm, though catholic, Stevens, and the inde- 
pendent and honest train of Buckminsters, could be induced 
to aid in the support of sentiments that he did not believe, 
or that he was so pliant that, by art and industry and flattery, 
he could be moulded into any thing ? I confess, my son, 
I feel myself hurt by this business ; especially that Mr. 
Freeman, considering your extreme youth and your rela- 
tion to me, should take such a step, without ever hinting one 
syllable of his intentions to me. I can excuse him upon no 
other principle, than that he has never knownwhat the heart 
of a parent is. I hope you have resolutely and finally 
stopped their proceedings. Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes. 
If not, you must decline their proposal, and at once excuse 
yourself from their service. If Providence should spare my 
life and yours, and give me any leisure from my present 
crowd of duty, I will endeavour to devote some hours to you 
upon this subject." 

This letter enables us to understand the entry in Jo- 
seph's journal, of December 22d, 1803 : — 

" Went to Newton, [the residence of Dr. Freeman,] 
Thursday, and returned on Saturday. This has been a 
week of distress, from causes which I hope to look back 
upon with satisfaction. O, that I could reconcile the com- 
mands of conscience, the claims of parental love, and the 
wishes of fond and partial friends ! Let vanity yield to pru- 
dence and self-knowledge, and both be the offspring of hu- 
mility. O God, enlighten my understanding, purify my 
desires, increase my single love of duty, and guide my 
present steps ! " 

12 



134 CORRESPONDENCE. 

Dr. Buckminster had urged upon his son his own de- 
sire that he should leave Boston at this time, where Mr. 
Lyman's family always resided in the winter, and place 
himself under the instruction of Dr. Lathrop of Spring- 
field, or Dr. Dana of Ipswich. 

He writes to his son again, December 27th, 1803: — 

" I was in hopes that before this time you had left Boston, 
to which I fear you are too much attached, and that you 
think a residence there too necessary to your happiness. 

' Fixed to no place is happiness sincere ; 
*T is nowhere to be found, or everywhere.' 

" Our happiness, my son, must be the result of doing our 
duty, of submitting to God, and enjoying his favor, or we 
should be wretched in palaces, nay, even in paradise. I 
have heard nothing from you since I recommended your 
going to Dr. Lathrop's to spend some time. I think your 
friends judge unwisely for you and for themselves by 
urging you to preach, and especially in wishing you to 
settle in Boston. Many will think that your remaining 
there, and being exposed to the complimentary remarks 
and the wishes that will be urged upon you, is an indication 
of your desire to settle there ; and this will prejudice many 
against you, and give them a distaste for your services, if 
you should in future be called to preach there. Then, after 
all that has been said and done, if your preaching should 
not be acceptable in Boston, you will, I fear, be mortified, 
and perhaps discouraged. If the plan I proposed had been 
agreeable to you, it would have omened well for you ; but I 
can do no more than advise, and refer all to God. 

" If your heart is really possessed with the fear and love 
of God, and you are willing, from love to Christ and the 
souls of men, to be a partaker of the afflictions of the Gos- 
pel, and to be a laborer in any part of God's vineyard, and 



CORKESPONDENCE. 135 

are ready to offer yourself, you had perhaps better present 
yourself for examination ; but whenever you begin to 
preach, I would advise you not to begin in Boston. I pray 
God to have you in his holy keeping." 

Thus his father watched every avenue to, and was as 
solicitous to guard the delicacy of, his son's honor, as 
he was careful to shield him from disappointment, and 
to prevent him from experiencing the least mortification. 
The next subject of anxiety is the application for the son 
to preach at Brattle Street, Boston. 

" December 31st, 1803. 

" My dear Son, — I have treated the idea of your preach- 
ing in Boston, or, indeed, preaching anywhere, at present, 
as mere matters of Utopia ; but I received a letter this week 
from Judge Sullivan upon the subject, in which he seems to 
think there would be no inconvenience or impropriety in 
your beginning in Brattle Street, and intimates that he had 
suggested it to you, although he 'relieved me by observing, 
that you did not give him any encouragement, or receive the 
matter as a subject of serious consideration.. 

" Although I have supposed that you had thought of the 
ministry as a profession, and it is perfectly agreeable to me that 
you should enter it, if God has given or should give you the 
necessary qualifications, yet, considering your extreme youth 
and the state of your health, I have wished you to look upon 
it as an object in the distant future. But if you have thought 
of beginning to preach any time within these six months, 
you should resolve to reside with some clergyman whose 
company, conversation, and ministerial gifts would assist and 
initiate you into some of the more private, as well as public, 
offices of the profession ; then, when it shall be judged pru- 
dent or proper, you should come forward in some more 
retired place, certainly not begin in the metropolis of New 



136 



CORRESPONDENCE. 



England. It is better to have it said to us, ' Come up higher, 1 
than to have it said, ' Go down lower.' I hope you will not 
consent to that which has at least the appearance of vanity, 
by making your first attempt in Boston, — ■ that your friends 
will not urge it, and that you will not permit them to urge it. 
" You know, my dear son, that it has always been my 
opinion that it would be best for you, as I think it is for 
every student in divinity, to spend some time with an ap- 
proved and respectable clergyman before he begins preach- 
ing ; and I hope you will take some measures to study awhile 
with Dr. Lathrop of Springfield. As to your qualifications 
for examination, I have no doubt you would acquit yourself 
so as to obtain approbation, and if I were as certain of your 
having those qualifications for the ministry which God only 
can give, as of your having those which are attained by 
human industry and application, I should not object to your 
offering yourself for examination. But you would come 
with fairer prospects from under the wing, and with the coun- 
tenance, of some respectable clergyman, than from your 
present residence. I hope God will be your* guide and 
guardian, and if he designs you for a laborer in his vineyard 
he will furnish you and send you forth. Let us hear from 
you soon. Your affectionate, but anxious father, 

" J. BCCK3IINSTER." 

We have seen that Judge Sullivan consulted both 
father and son upon the subject of the son's preaching 
at Brattle Street, in December, 1S03. The next step 
was, that a committee of the Brattle Street Church ad- 
dressed themselves to the son, in the beginning of March, 
1804, urging him to make his first trial there. Upon 
which his father writes : — 

"March 19th, 1504. 

" My dear Sox, — You have long had my opinion and 
advice : nor have I seen anv reason to alter them ; and 



LETTER UPON PREACHING AT BRATTLE STREET. 137 

though not delivered in that peremptory and absolute way 
that used to be the custom in the treatment of children, they 
were no less decided. If my advice had been regarded, and 
you had passed the winter at Springfield or Ipswich, you 
would have escaped your perplexities, and would have been 
in greater readiness to meet the application of the Brattle 
Street Church. I should now advise you to place yourself 
with one of those gentlemen, and tell the committee in Bos- 
ton, that, as soon as your instructor thought proper to bring 
you forward, you would commence preaching. It is, indeed, 
absurd for them to fix their eyes only upon you. 

" If you are qualified to begin to preach, the train of your 
preparation has been a little singular, and you must come, 
upon the stage under that disadvantage. I can do nothing 
for you, my dear son, in the perplexed and embarrassed 
state of my family. If your mother were not so ill, I should 
desire you to return home ; but her situation is such as to de- 
mand all my attention, beside the family being so encum- 
bered with nurses that little study could be done here. If 
you cannot reconcile it to your feelings to go to either 
of the gentlemen I have mentioned, why cannot you re- 
side a little while with Dr. Morse or with Mr. Homer of 
Newton ? 

" I should be glad to see some of your essays or disserta- 
tions upon some doctrinal points, if you have written any ; it 
would enable me better to judge of your ripeness for your 
public appearance. But, whatever you do, ask counsel of 
God, and rest yourself upon his mercy." 

Upon this request of his father, Joseph went to 
Portsmouth, and, in various conversations with him, the 
painful doubts of the son upon those points of doctrine 
which the Calvinistic theology deems necessary for ac- 
ceptance with God became apparent. The son says, 
in his private journal, that he could never dispute or 
12* 



138 DIFFEKENCES IN RELIGIOUS SENTIMENT. 

argue with his father ; that such was his tenderness for 
him, and his habit of implicit acquiescence in all his 
wishes, that disputing was as impossible as it would have 
been to have disobeyed his orders in his childhood. 
But when it came to direct question and answer, the 
candor and honesty of the son would not permit him to 
make use of any concealment or mental reservation. 

The father was at this time oppressed by family cares 
and anxieties. The long and dangerous illness of his 
beloved wife was drawing rapidly to a fatal termination, 
leaving him with a young and almost helpless family, so 
that, when the fact of his son's departure from what he 
believed the faith once delivered to the saints came with 
conviction to his heart, it is not strange that he was 
nearly overwhelmed. In the letters that follow, he seems 
to have forgotten the ripening excellences of his son's 
character, the comfort he had already enjoyed in his 
docility, and the confidence he felt in the manliness of 
his character, and, because a certain speculative faith was 
wanting, to have regarded all the rest, to use his own 
expression, as " only filthy rags." 

This difference in religious sentiment was probably 
the severest trial to both that they could have met with 
in the unclouded confidence, the transparent openness of 
intercourse, that existed between them. Although it is 
proper for the memorial of both that the correspond- 
ence should not be withheld, yet, as they were both of 
one spirit, both loved their Divine Master supremely, 
this difference of their faith respecting him never for a 
moment impaired their love to him, or to each other. 
They could never be far apart, for they stood upon the 
same ground of intimate conviction of the greatest and 
most important truths. God was next the heart of both. 



Joseph's first sermon, at york. 139 

But the one belonged to a particular system ; he was 
trammelled by a theory, and he feared that his son would 
be bewildered and lost, were he not also bound by the 
faith of ancient creeds. Both possessed the same prin- 
ciple of inward, spiritual life. It came from the same 
source ; it conformed both in thought, temper, and ac- 
tion to the inward oracle of right ; in both it led to dis- 
interested love of man, — to high endeavour for the good 
of others ; it gave strength to suffer to the one ; it gave 
humility to bear success to the other. It has been said 
that it came from the same source ; to continue the meta- 
phor, one drank it from the iron pipes in which man had 
bent and checked the stream, the other from the pure, 
freshly flowing river. We may believe that both were 
channels of God's blessings to others, each performing 
services equally acceptable in his sight. 

Upon this visit at Portsmouth, Joseph preached his 
first sermon, at York, in the pulpit of his venerable rela- 
tive, Mr. Lyman, the father of his step-mother. He 
was disabled from preaching, and had long been con- 
fined to the house by a palsy ; but upon this occasion 
he once more ascended, with tottering steps, the pulpit 
stairs, to listen to his young relative. The occasion 
and scene were made striking by the extremely youthful 
appearance of the young preacher, his beautiful counte- 
nance radiant with genius and the expression of elevated 
thought, and that of the aged minister, whose white hairs 
were covered with a velvet cap, and who could not even 
rise when the prayer was offered for him, that his 
trembling steps might be gently supported through the 
short descending path to the grave. They presented 
almost the extremes of life meeting in one common pe- 
tition, for there were some present who thought the life 



140 THE ANCIENT MEETING-HOUSE 

of the younger more frail and tremulous than even that 
of the aged pastor. 

There was a circumstance which the writer well re- 
members. Joseph, in reading the chapter from Scrip- 
ture, omitted a word, or substituted a different meaning 
of some word, which the elder minister instantly cor- 
rected, by calling out in full voice the received reading ; 
the other slightly smiled and went on. 

This meeting-house and congregation of Old York 
were both among the most ancient and primitive in the 
country. The venerable old building is now replaced 
by a modern structure, with slips within, and white paint 
without. The ancient building was perfect in its icono- 
clasm. The square, oaken pews, polished and dark 
with age, were guiltless of all carpet, cushion, or se- 
ductive invitation to wandering thoughts ; the beams of 
the ceiling were formed of heavy timber, roughhewn 
into form. Beneath the pulpit was an inclosed seat for 
the elders, two hoary-headed old men, with long, waving 
locks. Upon the corner of these seats the old frame 
for the hour-glass kept its place, the sands long since 
run out and motionless. In front of these w 7 as another 
square inclosed seat for the deacons, and facing them, 
upon the floor of the meeting-house, were seats for the 
singers. Within the childish memory of the writer, the 
hymn was given out two lines at a time, and sung with 
pauses breaking the harmony of the verses. In each 
pew, close to the mother's elbow, was the little wooden 
cage, where the youngest child, still too young to sit alone, 
was for two long hours an infant prisoner. 

Primitive as was the church, the congregation also 
retained its Puritan aspect, as they arrived, one family 
sfter the other, from their old farm-houses among the 



AND CONGREGATION OF OLD YORK. 141 

hills. The wife, the sister, or the betrothed dismounted 
at the old oaken block, close to the meeting-house door, 
from behind her cavalier ; and the old family horse pa- 
tiently took his position outside, till the long service was 
over. The old sexton in the porch, rope in hand, and 
arrayed in his cocked hat, waited anxiously for the pas- 
tor ; when, quitting the bell, he preceded him, hat in 
hand, to the pulpit stairs, and then, when the door was 
closed, respectfully took his seat. All these ancient cus- 
toms passed away from our manners even before the Pu- 
ritan meeting-houses disappeared from the landscape. 

The letters that follow were written immediately after 
Joseph's visit to Portsmouth. It is to be regretted that 
so few of the son's replies have been preserved. 

« June 25, 1804. 
" My unhappy Son, — I can pity you and pray for you, 
but I know not how to help you, preparing to be a minister 
of Christ, an ambassador of God, preparing to pull down the 
strongholds of sin, to turn sinners from darkness to light, 
and from the power of Satan unto God, and yet believing 
that your Master is only a created being, or a delegated 
messenger of Deity ! How faint must be your hope of suc- 
cess, how weak your expectations, how fallacious your con- 
fidence, — striving to reconcile sinners to God, and yet pre- 
senting them with no other righteousness as the ground of 
their hope of pardon and justification but their own, which 
is but as filthy rags ! An awakened conscience will never 
get ease upon such ground. Nor will the Church of Christ 
be ever built up where the doctrine of justification is not 
among the fundamental principles that are taught. A 
worldly church may be built ; men may be formed to ex- 
ternal decency and order, but the corrupt fountain of the 
heart will never be cleansed, nor the soul formed to be a 



142 



CORRESPONDENCE 



habitation of God, where the doctrine of Christ's atonement 
is disowned, or where it is not made the ground and cause 
of communicating grace to men. 

" You ask my advice when it is too late to give it. You 
should have listened when I urged your studying with some 
clergyman last winter. You have never had any proper 
education for the ministry, and will feel the inconvenience 
of it all your days. I would now urge your immediately 
going to Springfield, were it not that I hear Dr. Lathrop is 
not in a situation to take pupils ; but if you can be released 
from Mr. Lyman's family, I would advise you to go to Dr. 
Morse, or Dr. Dana of Ipswich, or to come home. 

" As to preaching, I do not see how you can extricate 
yourself. Your friends have committed you, by binding 
you to a promise to preach at such a time. If the commit- 
tee of Brattle Street, or of any other church, should apply 
to you with the view of hearing you in order to a settlement, 
I advise you, as an honest man, (and this you seem desirous 
to be,) to tell them plainly that you do not believe in the 
proper Deity and Divinity of Christ, nor in his vicarious sat- 
isfaction and atonement for the sins of men, and I presume 
they will trouble you no more ; or if they should, neverthe- 
less, urge you to preach, I advise you, in your first sermon, 
to be explicit upon those points, and not make use of any 
concealments or expressions that may mean any thing or 
nothing. This will decide the matter with you ; you will 
be able easily to relinquish your profession ; for I cannot 
believe that the churches of Christ are so removed from the 
foundation of the Apostles, and have so lost the principles 
of the Reformation, that they would settle ministers who 
deny the Divinity of the Head of the Church, or the price at 
which it has been purchased and redeemed. If, therefore, 
you preach where you have any reason to suppose the peo- 
ple hear you with a view to settlement, be open and ex- 
plicit. 



UPON THEOLOGICAL DOCTRINES. 143 

" It is not for me to judge another man's servant, nor to 
judge my own son, but I desire to receive it as a humiliating 
rebuke from my Lord and Master, that he should so far con- 
ceal from you what appears to me the great, important, and 
eternal truth, and pervert your judgment from the simplicity 
that is in Christ. O that I may be removed from every idol 
but God ! Your mamma is very ill. To God I commend 
her and you, and trust he will give his grace to all. I know 
he will be glorified in us, whatever be our life here or our 
situation hereafter." 

The son now informs his father that he has engaged 
to preach, the succeeding Sabbath, at Waltham, for the 
Rev. Dr. Cushing. After some domestic information, 
the father replies: — 

" July 7, 1804. 
" My dear Son, — As to the unpleasant situation to which 
you have reduced yourself, pledged as you are to preach, 
I know not what to say. Indeed, you have always been so 
reserved with respect to your opinions, that I know not what 
you do believe, or what you would preach and say to your 
fellow-men. How you can doubt those doctrines that lie 
at the foundation of all the hopes of Christians I know not, 
except from an injudicious course of reading. I am per- 
suaded you will think differently upon these doctrines when 
you come to have more acquaintance with your own heart 
and the hearts of others, and when you read the Scriptures 
with this impression, which is certainly a just one, that they 
were designed as a rule of faith and practice to men in 
general, to the unlearned as well as the learned, to those 
that are incapable of criticizing no less than to those who 
by subtilty of reasoning make plain things intricate and 
dark things plausible. Certainly the doctrine of the Trin- 
ity, as it is usually received, the Divinity of the Saviour, 
and his propitiatory sacrifice for the sins of men, by whose 



144 CORRESPONDENCE. 

righteousness we are justified and by whose grace we are 
sanctified, are the most plain doctrines of Scripture, and 
those who deny them are obliged to explain away the word 
of God in order, with any show of plausibility, to support 
their doctrine by the word of God. I am sorry you have 
pledged yourself to preach. Read Dr. Bates's Harmony of 
the Divine Attributes in the Work of the Redemption, and 
put yourself under the instruction of some learned and 
pious divine. Open your perplexities and difficulties to 
him, but above all pray to God to guide you into all truth, 
and to keep you from wounding his honor and his cause." 

The son replies as follows. Would that we had more 
of his filial letters ! 

"Waltham, July 23, 1804. 

" My dear Father, — I received last night a letter from 
Judge Sullivan, as chairman of the Brattle Street commit- 
tee, inquiring whether they might expect me, and at what 
time, if any, I would engage to supply them. I should 
have answered by letter, but Mr. Lyman thinks I had better 
see him, which I shall do to-morrow, and endeavour to pre- 
clude all expectation of hearing me, and all hope of any 
future consent to their wishes. 

" You express your surprise at my ever having thought 
of preaching with such sentiments as I entertain. I do not 
exactly know what sentiments you suppose me to hold ; but 
I have always considered it to be the object of the Chris- 
tian dispensation to lead men to virtue and holiness, and 
that this also ought to be the great object of its ministers. 
To this end the doctrines of the Gospel are auxiliary as 
means or motives, without any intrinsic value in themselves, 
or in the acknowledgment of them, except so far as they 
lead to this great end, the promotion of Christian excellence. 
If, then, I could believe that this great end could be attained 
without insisting upon Jesus Christ being the most high God, 



CORRESPONDENCE. 145 

I felt no scruple on this score in endeavouring to bear a 
small share in this honorable employment. If circumstances 
should occur which would make it proper or necessary for 
me to make an explicit avowal on this head I would be 
prepared to meet them ; but if they should not, I conceived 
it to be my first duty to recommend holiness by motives 
which I could honestly urge, and leave my opinions upon 
disputed points to the private inquiries of my hearers. I 
wished not to deny other men's belief, but only to be ex- 
cused from preaching what did not make a part of my own. 
Even under such circumstances I hoped, by the blessing of 
God, to prove a servant not entirely unprofitable. I did not 
foresee, in its utmost extent, the pain which my skepticism 
on some points would give you, and I trusted, perhaps, too 
much to the influence of time, and to the tenderness of the 
parental relation. 

" If, however, as seems now to be the case, you think that 
son unfit to be a preacher who, without supposing Jesus 
Christ to be the Most High God, believes that he is an illus- 
trious person, enjoying a most intimate communion with 
God, and possessing a peculiar relation to him, (a relation 
which we can perhaps never justly understand,) constituted 
also our infallible guide in faith and practice, and exalted 
to be the dispenser of all spiritual blessings, and the future 
judge of mankind ; — if also, in your opinion, it is not suf- 
ficient for the purposes of Christian obedience, and of 
love and gratitude to Christ's character, to consider his 
death as the highest act of his obedience and suffering 
for the benefit of sinful man, and as the ground on which 
God chooses to dispense his pardon to the penitent, without 
considering it as an infinite satisfaction for the offended jus- 
tice of God, separate from which God could not or would 
not pardon sin ; — if such, I say, be the nature of your views 
on this subject, actum est de jprcEdicatione. 

" But I have already written and thought on this sub- 
13 



146 CORRESPONDENCE. 

ject almost to distraction. You will no doubt say, my 
father, that I should have taken your advice last winter, and 
put myself under the tuition of some clergyman. Perhaps 
I ought. No doubt many of the perplexities of my present 
situation would have been avoided, but others would per- 
haps have arisen, and the principal one might not have been 
removed. Besides, in declining your proposal, I had the 
universal sentiment of my friends here in my favor. Now, 
it appears to me there is little difference between relinquish- 
ing the profession entirely, and committing myself to the 
instruction of any clergyman under the uncertain hope of 
attaining at last to those views of Christain truth which you 
deem essential. 

" I have employed almost every day since my return 
from Portsmouth in reading the most orthodox works on 
this subject, Edwards, Jamieson, Ridgely, etc., and from 
what I know of the state of my own mind I despair of 
ever giving my assent to the proposition that Jesus Christ 
is God, equal to the Father. I have been thus explicit to 
you, my dear Sir, that, whatever may be my future lot, I may 
still retain the consciousness of having preferred the relin- 
quishment of any prospect of fame and .preferment to the 
slightest evasion or hypocrisy upon subjects deemed by 
you so important. If this letter have any thing of a pre- 
sumptuous or dogmatical air, I pray you to forgive it, as it 
has arisen from the desire not to be misunderstood. 

" It is probable that I might get a tutorship at college ; this 
would be congenial to my pursuits, and it is not probable that 
I shall live to grow a burden upon their hands. I rejoice 
to hear that mamma is better. If you can only satisfy your- 
self that I do not cease to be a subject of the grace of God 
when I cease to be a Trinitarian, and let not this disappoint- 
ment prey upon your mind, I may still be useful and happy. 

"Your dear son, 

"J. S. B." 



CORRESPONDENCE. 147 

The sympathy of a reader is strongly enlisted alike for 
the father and son, in this their mutual confidence, which 
nothing impaired on the part of the son, and which 
yielded on the part of the parent only to a most cher- 
ished conviction of the supreme importance of specu- 
lative opinions. What an exhibition have we here of 
the different offices of the heart and mind in settling 
the essentials of Christian belief! 

To the foregoing honest and explicit letter the father 
returned answer : — 

" July 30, 1804. 

" My unhappy Son, — If you are fixed and settled in 
the sentiment that Jesus Christ is not a Divine person, nor 
any thing more than a created messenger of God, and that 
the business of his coming into the world was only to pub- 
lish truth, and to attest the truth that he published with his 
blood, and give hope and confirmation of a resurrection, 
but not to make atonement and satisfaction for sin, and if 
there is no hope of your having different views upon these 
points, it is best for you to think of some other profession 
than the ministry ; you had better be a porter on the wharf 
than a preacher with such views. 

" You are young enough to turn your attention to the 
study of law, or to the theory and practice of physic. I ad- 
vise you never to be a preacher with such an opinion of my 
Master and his system, as a denial of his Divinity and his 
atonement necessarily involve. I do not doubt, my son, that 
men have had the real consolations of the Gospel who have 
held different views of many religious truths, nor that men 
have had serenity of mind in holding the grossest errors. 
But the consolations of the Gospel cannot be enjoyed by those 
who destroy the fundamental doctrines of the Gospel, and 
he who does not build upon Christ as the foundation of all 
hope, and upon his blood as the price of purchase, and the 



148 CORRESPONDENCE. 

blood of cleansing from all sin, can have no solid hope of 
salvation. Could you have been persuaded to follow a 
different course of study, it appears to me these difficulties 
would have been avoided ; but I have thought it my duty 
to advise, rather than to insist, and if God should blast the 
fond hopes that I have entertained respecting you, he will 
be righteous. 4 desire to give up all into his hands : my 
wife, my children, and my own soul." 

Upon the receipt of which letter the son writes in 
his private journal : — " O God, assist, guide, and di- 
rect me what course of life to pursue ! Save me from 
prejudice, from indifference, from ambition, and from 
worldly views." 

And to his father he writes thus : — 

" August 10th, 1804. 

" My dear Father, — Your last letter appears to be final 
upon the subject of my preaching ; but as I have already 
made an engagement to preach for Dr. Gushing, my ser- 
mon may also be a valedictory. It would be more con- 
genial to , my feelings and pursuits to be a tutor at the 
College than to study either of the professions you men- 
tion. My tastes are literary, and as I am not ambitious of 
riches, the salary, together with my own little fortune,* 
would be amply sufficient, even if my health should fail 
before the term of my existence. 

" I cannot conceal from myself and from you, that this 
termination of the expectations of friends, and, may I not 
add without vanity, of the ample preparation I have made 
for my profession, is a severe disappointment of my fondest 
hopes. Yet the preparation may not be altogether lost. 
If God should spare my life, I may be able to do some- 

* Left him by his maternal grandfather, the Rev. Dr. Stevens. 



LETTER TO MR. SIDNEY WILLARD. 149 

thing in diffusing a deeper love of intellectual pursuits, and 
a purer taste among young persons of my own age ; and 
the malady with which God has visited me is a perpetual 
warning to me that I have no right to expect a long life. 

" You must permit me to differ from you in the propriety 
of declaring my views from the pulpit. I shall always.be 
ready to give an answer to private inquiries, but I conceive 
that it would be only an arrogant assumption for the young- 
est of preachers to intrude upon a mixed audience views 
that might be startling, that perhaps are not yet matured ; 
and although I see no expectation of my ever becoming a 
Trinitarian, further investigation may modify what is now 
the subject of incessant thought and constant prayer. 
" Your affectionate son, 

" J. S. BUCKMINSTER." 

That Joseph was entirely sincere in his intention of 
relinquishing, out of respect to his father, the profes- 
sion of his choice appears from a letter written, but per- 
haps not sent, to Mr. Sidney Willard, the Librarian of 
Harvard College. 

"Dec, 1803. 
" Dear Sir, — I should have given myself the pleasure of 
waiting upon you a second time before you left Portsmouth, 
but I was not only unwilling to interrupt you while taking 
leave of your friends, but the subject upon which I wished 
to speak with you was in some degree private. You will 
recollect that I then took the liberty of asking you, if you 
intended to leave your present situation at Cambridge. I 
should not have been so impertinent as to propose the ques- 
tion, except that I had heard it mentioned from several quar- 
ters that such was your intention, which I was the more 
induced to believe, from knowing that you had been for some 
time engaged in preaching. I sometimes indulge my in- 
clination for a residence at Cambridge, and the office of 
13* 



150 PROPOSED CHANGE OF PROFESSION. 

Librarian I have always thought would be most accommo- 
dated to the pursuit of my favorite objects. Perhaps it is 
presumptuous in me to expect ever to attain it; at be- 
prospect of success is so uncertain, that I have been induced 
to give you this intimation of my wishes, presuming that 
you will not think it impertinent in me to suggest them. 
If your intention of leaving Cambridge depend upon cir- 
cumstances at present doubtful, you will greatly oblige me 
by giving me notice of your determination whenever it is 
decidedly formed. I will take the liberty, also, of requesting 
you to inform me whether any application for the office 
has yet been made. If my request should appear to you 
in any degree improper, I must beg your pardon for troub- 
ling you with this letter.* 



CHAPTER X. 

CHARACTER OF DR. BUCKMINSTER' S PREACHING. EXTRACTS 

FROM HIS SERMONS. LETTERS. 



1803.* 



Dr. Buckminster had now been settled in 
Portsmouth twenty-four years, and during that 
time he had been pursuing the usual quiet routine of the 
duties of a parish minister, varied and rendered more than 
usually interesting by the state of the public mind in this 
transition period of the country. The country was then 
passing through those momentous events which finally 
established its prosperity ; but while they were in prog- 
ress, they deeply agitated the minds of all men, and 
laid upon public instructors a double weight of respon- 
sibility. It was then deemed proper, even indispensable, 
that ministers should preach upon all subjects of public 
and political interest, expressing their individual opin- 
ions with moderation, but with decision and independ- 
ence ; and it sometimes happened that they did not con- 
fine themselves to the bounds of moderation. There 
were at this time very few newspapers, — no reading- 
rooms ; the public press was just beginning to be the 
important instrument of good and of evil which it has 
since become, and the preaching of the ministers, at 

* This year the degree of Doctor in Divinity was conferred upon 
Mr. Buckminster by the College of New Jersey. 



152 PREACHING OF DR. BUCKMINSTER. 

least in country places, was one of the great means of 
instructing and informing the people in political affairs, 
as well as in religious duties. 

Since the period of Dr. Buckminster's settlement at 
Portsmouth, the treaty had been concluded which fin- 
ished the war and established the independence of the 
country. The terrible depression of public credit which 
followed, and all the distressing embarrassments of the 
period, he bore, together with his faithful parish, waiting 
for better times for the full payment of his moderate 
salary. The adoption of the Constitution ; the choice of 
rulers, and of Washington as the first President ; his visit 
to Portsmouth ; his retirement from the Presidency ; the 
choice of John Adams ; the death of Washington, and 
the subsequent celebration of his birthday and also the 
commemoration of the.day of his death, w T ere signal oc- 
casions, upon all of which Dr. Buckminster preached 
sermons which his hearers thought worthy of more 
extensive circulation, and at their request .they were 
printed. 

A sermon, preached by him at the time of the visit 
of Washington to the Eastern States, subjected him, 
from those w T ho did not hear it, to severe censur3. Dr. 
Buckminster was not informed till late on Saturday that 
the illustrious guest would worship at his church in the 
forenoon, and the sermon was prepared in haste from 
Psalm xxiv. 7, 8 : — " Lift up your heads, O ye gates, 
and be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors, and the King 
of Glory shall come in. Who is this King of Glory ? 
The Lord strong and mighty ; the Lord mighty in 
battle." 

Perhaps the selection of the text was unfortunate ; 
but to all who heard or read the discourse, it appeared 



OCCASIONAL SERMONS. 153 

as far as possible from any intention to flatter. The 
sermon was not introduced, as is usual, by the annuncia- 
tion of the text, but by an address to the people, con- 
gratulating them upon the safe arrival of the President 
of the United States. The preacher says: — 

"We now see this illustrious patriot, like the father of a 
great family, visiting its various branches to bless and to 
be blessed, to start the tear of joy, and awaken mutual con- 
gratulations. He comes, — not attended with mercenary 
guards, like kings and emperors, who hold their dignity by 
hereditary descent, who ever fear where no fear is, — he 
comes not in the triumph of military parade, to show the 
spoils and laurels he hath won, — but he comes triumphing 
in the confidence and affection of a free and grateful people, 
who, under God, hail him as the deliverer of their country, 
and the protector of its liberties 

" Too much respect, that falls short of religious hom- 
age, cannot be paid to one to whom we owe so much ; were 
more to be offered, he would say, with the angel in the Rev- 
elation, ' See thou do it not ! I am thy fellow-servant, and 
of thy brethren that have the testimony of Jesus. Worship 
God!' 

" Whatever distinctions there may be among mankind, 
however indebted we may be to an earthly benefactor, they 
all fade away before our Father ; ' For one God hath cre- 
ated us ; there is none in the heavens that may be compared 
to him, there is none among the sons of the mighty that 
may be likened to Jehovah.' Permit me, then, my friends, 
to take occasion, from this auspicious event of a kind Provi- 
dence, to excite your expectations, exalt your conceptions, 
and solicit your preparation for the approach of that glori- 
ous character, ; who is the brightness of the Father's glory, 
and the express image of his person ' ; who is so infinitely 
exalted that it is the crowning excellence of the most per- 



154 DEEP REGARD FOR WASHINGTON. 

feet and exalted human character to be his servant and dis- 
ciple. This I shall do by calling your attention to that sub- 
lime demand of the royal poet : — 

" ' Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and be ye lifted up, ye 
everlasting doors, and the King of Glory shall come in. 
Who is this King of Glory ? The Lord, strong and mighty, 
the Lord mighty in battle.' " 

The sequel of the sermon was an exhortation to his 
hearers to be prepared for that great coming of Jesus, 
and to open the doors of their hearts to give him en- 
trance. And in conclusion he said, " that it was the 
greatest distinction of their illustrious guest that he hon- 
ored the Saviour, and rendered homage to the Father 
of all." 

In as far as a man like him could permit himself to 
cherish an almost idolatrous affection for any human be- 
ing, Dr. Buckminster felt that affection for Washington. 
The only journey that he appears to have made while 
tutor at New Haven was to visit the camp at Cam- 
bridge, — where, indeed, his uncle, Colonel William 
Buckminster, was ; but his object appears to have been 
to see the illustrious man. Of the twenty-five sermons 
that were printed during his ministry, six were devoted to 
the character, and in public commemoration, of Washing- 
ton. Only twice does the writer remember to have seen 
her father weep. The first time was at the death of that 
great man. When the news of that sudden and disas- 
trous event reached him, tears, a flood of tears, impeded 
his utterance as he attempted to impart the news to his 
family.* 

* It was his habit to send a copy of his printed sermons to Wash- 
ington. These were always acknowledged by a letter from the Presi- 
dent's own hand. 



EXTKACT FROM DR. PARKER'S SERMON. 155 

It was urged, at the death of Dr. Buckminster, that 
the best legacy that could be given to his parish would 
be a volume of his sermons. Such a gift was rendered 
difficult by his habit of writing in a character, the key 
to w T hich was not understood. As his mind was highly 
poetical, the character of his preaching was discursive 
rather than argumentative. Scripture biography, espe- 
cially that of the patriarchs, was a favorite subject for 
his sermons, in which his vivid imagination entered fully 
into the picturesque Orientalism of their lives and char- 
acters. But David was the Scripture character in whose 
poetical and devotional spirit he wholly sympathized. 
The fervent piety and touching humility exhibited in the 
Psalms of David excited in him the strongest emotion. 
The poetry of the Scriptures was ever on his lips, and 
much quoted in his sermons. 

The writer is painfully aware that, where the space 
is limited and the occasion admits of no more, detached 
parts afford but a very inadequate impression of the 
whole sermon. 

Before giving any extracts from Dr. Buckminster's 
writings, the opinion is quoted of one who had formed 
his judgment from an intimate acquaintance, and who 
could not be suspected of partiality. 

" The character of Dr. Buckminster's mind was strongly 
marked. It had much originality. No person could be con- 
versant with him without noticing that strength of volition 
which indicates superiority of intellectual endowment. His 
mind was rapid in its operations and impatient of delay. In 
the character of his mind he was qualified for distinction in 
the departments of elegant literature. Such in his early life 
was his taste for the attractions of music and poetry that he 
seriously apprehended he should be drawn from solid useful- 



156 EXTRACT FROM DR. PARKER^ SERMON. 

ness of character, to enjoy the allurements of fancy. Under 
this apprehension, he almost totally abstracted himself from 
his favorite pursuits, and for Parnassus substituted Mount 
Zion. In „his sermons and in his services as a minister, 
traces of a playful imagination were ever visible. He 
seemed to delight to dwell upon the figurative language 
and the rich imagery of Scripture, and to adorn the solemn 
truths of religion with all the ornament that the sacred clas- 
sics could supply 

" His sermons were not labored by art. His mind was 
not accustomed to the regular management of argumenta- 
tive discourse. It was impatient of the forms of close inves- 
tigation and systematic reasoning. It glanced with rapidity 
from one subject to another, and when truth was discovered 
he was eager to give to it a practical effect. His discourses, 
therefore, were often rather a collection of truths and ex- 
hortations deemed important and useful, than a systematic 
arrangement of arguments and thoughts upon any particular 
subject." * 

It may be added, that the effect of his preaching was 
to produce emotion, rather than conviction. Emotion is 
necessarily transient ; and, although he was one of the 
most eloquent of the Orthodox persuasion, there was no 
revival in his parish during his ministry. 

The first of his sermons that was given to the public 
was upon the occasion of the National Thanksgiving, 
appointed by Congress, December Uth, 1783, after the 
ratification of the treaty of peace with Great Britain. 
It is remarkable for a eulogy upon Louis the Sixteenth, 
" who, while Protestant powers stood aloof from our aid, 
and, like the priest and the Levite, passed over on the 

* From Dr. Parker's Funeral Sermon. 



DR. BUCKMINSTER's SERMONS. 157 

other side, like the good Samaritan, rose to our assist- 
ance ; and, as a second Cyrus, offered his aid for secur- 
ing our liberties." 

The next of his sermons which was printed was after 
the death of Mrs. Porter, of Rye, the wife of one of 
his brethren of the Piscataqua Association. She was a 
lady of remarkable loveliness of person and character ; 
and as she died soon after the death of his own first wife, 
similarity of circumstances, and sympathy of feeling un- 
der the same bereavement, produced utterances of pe- 
culiar tenderness and eloquence. 

Of the extracts that follow, the first is from a sermon 
preached February 22d, 1800, — the day appointed by 
Congress to commemorate the death of Washington. 
The North and South Parishes united upon this occasion, 
and, as it was not the Sabbath, the sermon has more of 
a political aspect than is usual. The theme of the dis- 
course is, that " religion and righteousness, or justice, 
are the basis of national honor and prosperity." 

" Let us strive to preserve that American veneration for 
God and his judgments, and a practical regard to that glori- 
ous system of truth and duty which he has given us. This 
will be our wisdom and understanding; this will be the 
means of our renown among the nations of the earth ; and, 
what is far more, it will secure to the institutions of our 
young republic a stability and permanency by the blessing 
of Him, whose it is to make great and give strength unto alh 

" May we not be encouraged to this duty by the fond, and 
not, I believe, enthusiastic hope, that God designs America 
as the honored and happy instrument of extending the ban- 
ners of truth and freedom, and of placing a barrier against 
the flood of infidelity that has deluged so great a part of the 
14 



158 OX PARTY SPIRIT. 

Old World ? Do not the views and principles with which this 
country was settled, its situation with respect to the nations 
of Europe, the remarkable dispensations of Heaven in ref- 
erence to its religious as well as political interests, give ra- 
tional ground for this hope ? Without a prevalence of virtue 
and justice, republics cannot exist : without religion, virtue 
cannot prevail : and no religion affords so firm a b 
exhibits such animating motives to a manly virtue, as that 
which brings life and immortality to light, and holds forth 
rewards and punishments stamped with eternity. If we re- 
tain any reverence for revelation, we must believe that God 
will preserve his Church in the world. He may remove it 
from one place, but it shall be firm in another. The gates 
of hell shall not prevail against it. ' The kings of the earth 
may set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, 
against the Lord and against his anointed,' but, in the sub- 
lime language of Scripture, ' He that sitteth in the heavens 
will laugh, the Lord shall have them in derision ; then shall 
he speak to them in his wrath, and vex them in his hot dis- 
pleasure. 1 From these considerations, may not.the friend of 
religion, of good order, of liberty, encourage a rational hope 
that God will yet maintain his throne among us, and display 
his banner, because of truth ? And may not every such true 
patriot be encouraged in every rational exertion to revive a 
practical regard ; to all those dispositions and habits which 
lead to political prosperity, of which religion and morality 
are indispensable supports : : 

t; Let it not be thought a vain repetition if I again exhort 
my enlightened and reflecting fellow-citizens to soften all 
their unpleasant feelings, and merge all their party views in 
a united veneration for God and his government, and in a 
conscientious and exemplary observance of his laws and in- 
stitutions. Thus shall we prove, that, though we are men, 
and liable to err, under the impressions to which humanity 
is subject, yet we are indeed the friends of our country, and 



ON PATRIOTISM. 159 

ready to do every thing in our power to secure to it the 
shield and benediction of Him who can make a little one 
to become a thousand, and a small one a strong nation. 

" If there is any confidence to be placed in the deductions 
of reason, or any credit to be given to the declarations of 
Scripture, we learn from these remarks who are the true 
friends of our country, - and the means of securing to it na- 
tional honor and prosperity. The true friends of our coun- 
try are those who rationally and devoutly reverence, adore, 
and fear God, and keep his righteous judgments and con- 
scientiously walk in his statutes and ordinances. I would 
not be understood to insinuate that contemners of religious 
duties, and even men void of religious principle, may not 
have an attachment to their country and a desire for its civil 
and political prosperity ; nay, they may even expose them- 
selves to great dangers and make great sacrifices to accom- 
plish this object ; but by their impiety they weaken the en- 
ergy of those inspiring principles that serve to ennoble, in- 
vigorate, and enlarge the public mind, and introduce prin- 
ciples that enervate and corrupt public sentiment. They 
take away the heavenly defence and security of a people, 
and render it necessary for Him who ruleth among the na- 
tions by righteous things in judgment to testify his displeas- 
ure against those who despise his laws and contemn his ordi- 
nances. In the present state of the world, fleets and armies 
are necessary means of security and defence ; but they will 
eventually prove a broken reed to the nation that despises 
the God of armies, and pours contempt upon his authority. 
There is no counsel, understanding, or might against the 
Lord. The true fearer of God and worker of righteousness 
is the truest friend of his country, and the means of her de- 
fence ; and when such is the character of the rulers of any 
country, her renown will go forth among the nations, and 
she may look for national honor and prosperity. 

" This subject directs the honest, independent, and patriotic 



1G0 OX PATRIOTISM. 

citizen in the exercise of his high birthright as a freeman, in 
giving his suffrage for civil rulers. This, though a natural 
right of man, is enjoyed but by a very small portion of our 
race. They who are distinguished by this high privilege 
ought to honor themselves by an honest and dignified 
exercise of it, and not carelessly despise their birthright, 
much less sell it at a less premium than a mess of pottage, 
to answer the party purposes of ambition, or pride, envy, or 
any other low passion. 

" The character of a nation, then, my friends, is decided 
by the character of its rulers, especially in a free and elect- 
ive government. If the rulers of a people are men of prin- 
ciple, who fear God and own his statutes, the nation will be 
regarded in this approving light by Him who superintends the 
affairs of nations. Every friend to his country, in the choice 
of its civil rulers, should have his eye upon the faithful of 
the land, — upon such as fear God. It is to be expected, 
other things being equal, that we should give our suffrages 
for men whose political views accord with our own ; yet 
scarcely could that man vindicate his claim *o the meed 
of patriotism who should give his suffrage to a man who 
had no other claim to the dignified station of a civil ruler, 
or who was destitute of the commanding influence of relig- 
ious principle." 

A sermon which he preached before the general elec- 
tion, February 28th, 1796, upon the duty of republican 
citizens in the choice of their rulers, from the text, 
u Mine eyes shall be upon the faithful of the land," 
drew forth very severe animadversions from some per- 
son of the Democratic party, in an anonymous pamphlet. 
Although many of Dr. Buckminster's published sermons 
are occasional, and upon subjects of public and political 
interest, those of a domestic character have a more 
tender and intimate reference to life. 



ON DOMESTIC VIRTUES. 161 

A sermon upon domestic contentment, from the text, 
u Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a 
stalled ox and hatred therewith," Prov. xv. 17, was 
printed, at the request of the young unmarried men of 
Portsmouth, to whom the doctrine of the discourse was 
peculiarly comfortable. The extracts that follow are 
from a sermon, also of a domestic character, preached at 
the ordination of Rev. James Thurston, at Manchester, 
1809. 

" ' Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus.'' John 
xi. 5. 

" There are Christians of different degrees of amiable- 
ness, age, and stature. In this family, which was the ob- 
ject of our Saviour's special affection, there was a strik- 
ing variety of disposition. They are described by an able 
pen. 

" Of Lazarus much is not said. He seems to have been 
a serious, solid, established professor of religion ; but the 
two sisters are more strongly marked, — more minutely 
characterized. Mary, it is probable, had lately been called. 
She was full of those pleasing, but often transient, emotions 
which generally accompany the beginning of the Christian 
life. Wondering at the gracious words that proceeded out 
of his mouth, she sat at the feet of Jesus. The reverse of 
all this was the defect of Martha. She was anxious and ea- 
ger. She was susceptible of domestic vanity, and therefore 
too fond of parade and expensive entertainments, — cum- 
bered about much serving. She was also fretful, and, by the 
loss of temper, betrayed into such indiscretion as to break 
in upon our Saviour's discourse, to complain to him of her 
sister's negligence, and bring upon herself his friendly re- 
proof. Yet Jesus loved Martha as well as Mary. He knew 
her frame ; he saw kindness reigned in her heart, and that 
she was no less attached to him than her sister, though she 
14 * 



162 ON CHRISTIAN CHARACTER. 

had mistaken the best, the most acceptable way of express- 
ing it. 

" Religion, though divine and perfect in its origin and ten- 
dency, is human in its residence, and in its exercises it re- 
ceives a tinge and complexion from the region that it occu- 
pies. If we withhold Christian affection till we find perfect 
characters, the world must ever want that evidence, by 
which, according to our Saviour's directions, they are to be 
assisted in discerning his real disciples. And should we 
not blush to demand what nothing but ignorance of ourselves 
could prevent our knowing that we could not proffer in re- 
turn ? The reality of religion is not determined by the per- 
fection, but the sincerity, of its subjects. The best of men 
are at best but men. The most advanced Christian is sancti- 
fied but in part ; and he who pretends to perfection is, by 
the highest authority, pronounced perverse. Yet we are not 
making an apology for sin. There is an essential difference 
of character between him who hath tasted that the Lord is 
gracious, who hath received Christ and believed in him, 
and he whose spiritual senses have never been'exercised to 
discern the things of the Spirit of God. The former hates 
sin and loves holiness ; he is dead to sin, and alive to right- 
eousness. He delights in the law of the Lord after the 
inner man. He receives with meekness the reproofs of wis- 
dom, and tests his character by repentance and reformation. 
If we do not embrace such characters, with all their infirmi- 
ties, in the arms of Christian charity, we neither imitate our 
Master nor respect his directions. He despises not the day 
of small things. The bruised reed he does not break. He 
gathers the lambs in his arms, and carries them in his bosom, 
and succours and defends the most helpless of the flock. 
He commands those that are strong to bear the infirmities of 
the weak, and not to please themselves ; to be tender and 
pitiful ; to receive him who is weak in virtue, and not per- 
plex him with doubtful disputations. The Christian minister 



ON FRIENDSHIPS. 163 

should cherish this disposition towards all the lambs and 
sheep of the fold, but it may be diversified in its exercise by- 
all the various circumstances and characters of his people. 
' Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus.' 

" II. In this trait in our Saviour's character and ministry, 
we find an apology for what is often imputed to ministers as 
a fault. I mean a particularity, or what is called partiality, 
in our friendships and affections. Few ministers escape 
this charge, and fewer, perhaps, are free from deserving it ; 
but the history of our Saviour certainly excuses and justifies 
a kind and degree of partiality. While a minister is ready 
for every office of ministerial duty, and has a disinterested 
concern for all his people, and a Christian affection for such 
as wear the livery of Christ, he is not bound to receive all 
to equal intimacy, but may choose those who shall share his 
more especial friendship and confidence. Jesus, doubtless, 
had a sincere affection for all the Apostles, yet John is dis- 
tinguished as the disciple whom he preeminently loved ; and 
he gave him^ both living and dying, marked tokens of his 
tender affection and confidence. John not only sat next him 
at meat, but leaned on his bosom. And, when hanging on 
the cross, Christ said to this disciple, ; Behold thy mother ! 
and to her, Behold thy son ! and from that time this disciple 
took her to his own home.' 

" Jesus was kind and attentive to all his followers, but 
this family in Bethany seems to have been the place of his 
frequent and most delightful resort. It is but just, however, 
to remark, that the ground of this preference and delight 
seems to be altogether laid in religion, and to be cemented 
by their spiritual improvement, and their delight in the com- 
pany and conversation of the Saviour. If this be the dis- 
criminating line of our partialities, and we give the prefer- 
ence to scenes and circles where our appropriate duties and 
services are most acceptable, though partiality be imputed to 
us, we shall suffer little by the imputation. But if our pref- 



164 RELIGIOUS ENJOYMENT. 

erences are influenced by a worldly spirit; if the circles of 
amusement, of social pleasure, or animal indulgence com- 
mand our choice, and we have men's persons in admiration 
because of selfish advantage, we shall find nothing in the life 
or example of our Saviour to give us countenance or excuse ; 
nor will it be easy to shield ourselves from reflections upon 
the genuineness of our affection, or the purity of our zeal. 
" But did not the Saviour, it may be asked, attend festival 
occasions ? Did he not sup with the rich and honorable ? 
Assuredly ; and so may we. We are not to go out of the 
world, because we are not of it. Happy will it be for us, 
if, on these occasions, which duty and decorum call us to 
attend, we can so have the example of Christ shedding its 
influence upon us, that we may catch some favorable mo- 
ment to say something for his honor and the edification of 
our friends. Though Jesus did not decline nor refuse these 
occasions of festivity when they fell in his way, yet candor 
will acknowledge that he never coveted them, and that he 
ever converted them into purposes of religious and moral in- 
struction. The bosom of his beloved family, me retreat at 
Bethany, had far superior delights for Christ. And the 
Christian minister in the retired circle of Christian friends, 
familiarly conversing and explaining the things of the king- 
dom, will think with more satisfaction upon the example of 
his Master, than when mingling in the common resorts of 
men, hearing or telling something new, or joining scenes 
of hilarity and amusement. ' Jesus loved Martha, and her 
sister, and Lazarus,' and he expressed this distinguishing 
affection by his familiar visits." 

Near the conclusion of the sermon, he thus speaks: — 

" From the tenor of this discourse, my Christian friends, 
you will conclude that I entertain fears that the private, so- 
cial duties of our profession, the minor concerns of our of- 
fice, command too little of our attention. If I mistake, or if 



ON PASTORAL INTERCOURSE. 165 

the defects of one place do not apply to another, forgive me 
this wrong. But the general genius and taste of the present 
day for extravagant pleasures, — the prevalence of a love 
for elegance, splendor, and refinement, for literary distinc- 
tion and pulpit eloquence, — increase my suspicions. These 
ought to have their weight, and a share of our attention ; but 
if the interviews with our people be suspended, or lose their 
religious cast and complexion, our people will lose a great 
part of the benefit of our public instruction, which, like seed 
unwatched and unwatered, will yield but a scanty harvest. 
Is not private visiting the principal engine of sectarian suc- 
cess ? Wandering from house to house, filled with zeal for 
their peculiar principles and practices, they make them the 
subject of serious and familiar conversation in all families 
and circles that will listen to them ; accompanying their in- 
structions with great fervor of devotion and warm expres- 
sions of kindness for those who will join them. The tender 
and thoughtful receive this spirit of proselytism as the spirit 
of real religion, and thus they are seduced and led away 
from the footsteps of that flock which has belonged to the 
fold of Christ since the days of the Reformation." 

We must indulge ourselves with one more extract, 
which shows the Christian liberality and the catholic spirit 
of Dr. Buckminster. It is from a sermon, preached at 
a time of great sectarian zeal, respecting the Baptists. 

" The unity of the Church does not consist in a unity of 
sentiment upon points of doctrine, much less in uniformity 
of worship or modes of administering its ordinances ; but 
the unity of the Church consists in receiving and acknowl- 
edging Christ as its head, and submitting to all that we in 
conscience believe he has enjoined, — in partaking of his 
spirit, so that sin is confessed, forsaken, and abhorred, 
and holiness loved and pursued. Does not the Apostle sup- 



166 ON CHRISTIAN UNITY. 

port this sentiment, when he exhorts ' to keep the unity of 
the spirit in the bond of peace ' ? All real Christians, 
doubtless, agree in certain great leading points of doctrine ; 
but they may differ widely in their mode of explaining and 
enforcing them. ■ They have all drunk into the same spirit,' 
and are the subjects of similar exercises and affections ; but 
they may worship in very different forms, and have various 
opinions upon the rites and institutions of religion. We 
should therefore be careful that our zeal for the unity of the 
Church does not weaken its energy or destroy its beauty, 
and that our attachment to the mere form of administering 
instituted rites be not carried so far as to obstruct the en- 
largement of the Church. 

" It is scarcely more reasonable to expect that men should 
be perfectly harmonious in religion, than in any other mat- 
ter that interests and affects their passions. Considering 
their different capacities, advantages, modes of education, 
habits of thinking, and prejudices from various sources, it is 
to be expected that they should have different views of truth 
and duty. And in the enjoyment of that extensive religious 
liberty with which this happy land is favored, and the uni- 
versal toleration of all sects, it is to be expected that differ- 
ent denominations should multiply among us, and support 
themselves with a zeal that is usually attendant upon novelty, 
and on a separation from long established principles and 
forms. When success attends these, and they spread and 
increase, other denominations are apt to kindle with the fire 
of envy and jealousy, and to cherish a disposition to forbid 
and suppress them. But the instruction of our Master is, 
' Forbid them not.' If they acknowledge Christ as their Lord 
and Master, and partake of his spirit, rejoice in the good 
that is done, whatever irregularities attend the doing of it. 
Every enlightened Christian is fully persuaded in his own 
mind that the way in which he worships God is most agree- 
able to his revealed will ; but he is not to denounce those who 



EXTEMPORANEOUS PREACHING. 167 

differ from him, nor think that they cannot be accepted of 
God, while they conscientiously worship according to the 
light and understanding they have ; nor should they refuse 
to such the tokens of Christian fellowship, nor forbid their 
exertions to promote the common cause of Christianity." 

The extracts which have been given from Dr. Buck- 
minster's sermons may hardly be thought to justify 
or to account for the popularity which usually accom- 
panied and followed his preaching ; or to bear out the 
assertion made by a surviving member of the Piscat- 
aqua Association, that the associate at whose house 
the ministers assembled more frequently selected him 
to preach than any other, and that he w 7 as always ad- 
mired by the people. In answer it may be said, that, 
as his manuscript sermons were written in a short hand 
now impossible to decipher, the selections could only 
be made from his printed sermons ; that these were 
upon political subjects, or upon occasions which did 
not admit of that spontaneous and impassioned eloquence 
/or which he was most admired in the village pulpits. 
His habit w T as, at the close of his sermon, when he was 
thoroughly imbued with his subject, to throw his notes 
aside, and give way to that spontaneous flow of thought 
which gushed up from his ardent soul. This led to 
impassioned appeals to the conscience, to the hopes 
and the fears, of his audience. In his printed sermons 
there are few traces of that vivid imagination and ardent 
temperament which distinguished his extemporaneous 
performances. 

Connected with his public ministrations was the deep 
interest he took in the musical part of the worship of 
the Sabbath. Almost his only recreation was the pro- 



168 



LOVE OF MUSIC. 



motion of the singing of his society. For this purpose 
the choir were very frequently invited to meet at his 
house. There was a large room in the parsonage, 
originally intended for private lectures ; but as Dr. 
Buckminster never held these in his own house, the 
room was rarely opened except for the accommodation 
of the singers, and he was exhilarated and delighted 
when there was a full choir, and a tune or 'an anthem 
was well performed. 

In relation to this subject, a characteristic anecdote 
is told of him. Musicians are proverbially sensitive, 
easily wounded, and apt to take offence. Upon one 
occasion, the pastor, or the singers, or the parish, had 
unconsciously given offence, and the whole choir de- 
serted at once, without the least intimation of their pur- 
pose, leaving the seats empty on Sunday morning. After 
reading the hymn as usual, and finding no voice raised, 
he stepped again into the speaker's desk, and began to 
sing alone. His voice was of a peculiarly sweet and 
silvery tone, and thrilled through the whole building, 
and touched every heart. He sang the whole of 
the first stanza alone, but at the beginning of the sec- 
ond some timid voices were heard joining in from 
different parts of the audience ; one after another the 
voices were tuned, and before the hymn was finished 
the whole congregation united in one burst of music. 
It was remarked that the singing had never been so 
agreeable, and that the society could dispense w T ith the 
services of the choir. The next Sunday all were in their 
places, and, it is believed, with no explanation and no 
complaint from the pastor. 

During these years of Dr. Buckminster's ministry 



YELLOW-FEVER IN PORTSMOUTH. 169 

events and circumstances touching more intimately his 
private ministerial duties took place. In the months of 
August and September, 1798, a putrid malignant fever, 
like the yellow-fever of Philadelphia and New Orleans, 
prevailed in Portsmouth. It was confined to the part 
of the town where most of the members of the North par- 
ish dwelt, and many of his most valued parishioners were 
attacked. Consternation and terror prevailed through- 
out the town, and numerous families rushed into the 
neighbouring villages, as they did formerly from the 
plague in London. In the course of less than three 
months one hundred and seven persons died in a popu- 
lation of about five thousand. In the midst of the uni- 
versal dismay, the physicians of the town were stricken 
down by the disease. Dr. Buckminster remained with 
his family, and used every proper means to prevent the 
calamity from spreading. He was always, from early 
morning to midnight, among the sick, serving and watch- 
ing, performing the part of physician and nurse, as well 
as that of spiritual comforter. Often, in one day, after 
having spent the night with the afflicted, and closing the 
eyes of the dying, he was obliged to array the dead in 
the garments of the tomb, to accompany them to their 
last resting-place, and to speak words of comfort and 
peace to sorrowing and trembling relatives. From 
thence he returned wearied and exhausted to his family ; 
but not till he had changed every garment, and submitted 
to the processes for counteracting contagion. His meet- 
ing-house was not closed, as was the case with many 
others ; he preached every Sunday, and devoted every 
other hour to his sick and dying friends, of whom some 
were among the most valuable of his parishioners ; but 
his own family, with himself, escaped all illness. 
15 



170 DR. BUCKMINSTER IN CONTROVERSY 

Until after his death there was no division between 
the Congregational churches of Portsmouth. The epi- 
thets Orthodox and Liberal, Calvinist and Unitarian, 
were unknown between them. Not the most remote 
insinuation is intended that the former state of things 
was better than the present, for though union is better 
than disunion, " disunion may indicate a better state 
of things than is indicated by concord." Perhaps it 
may be mentioned, as an unusual act of liberality in 
another denomination, that the members of the Episco- 
pal society, the day after the fire that consumed St. 
John's Church, met in Dr. Buckminster's meeting-house. 
It was Christmas day, and they were without a Rector. 
The service was read by one of their own number, and 
the Doctor preached from the words, " Our holy and 
our beautiful house, where our fathers worshipped thee, 
is burnt up with fire." His sermon, from its sympathy 
and appropriateness, gave great satisfaction. .There were 
other Christmas days when this church was without a 
Rector that he was invited to preach, and the liberality 
that asked and the courtesy that answered the demand 
were mutual. 

In the mean time there were divisions in another form 
which gave him much pain and perplexity. About the 
beginning of the century a zealous and effective, but 
very violent, Baptist preacher came to Portsmouth, and 
made a strong impression there, dividing the congrega- 
tions and taking from Dr. Buckminster's society some 
of his most valuable friends and church-members. The 
two divines entered into a written controversy upon the 
subject of adult and infant baptism, each supporting his 
side of the argument with ability. At the close of the 
controversy, Dr. Buckminster preached three sermons 



WITH THE EAPTIST DENOMINATION. 171 

upon the subject, which were printed, from one of which 
sermons an extract appears upon a preceding page. 

Such an experience is one of the severest trials to 
which a sensitive and conscientious minister can be sub- 
jected. It requires truly Christian liberality, and a 
catholic spirit which rejoices in good, however done, 
to see those for whose welfare he has earnestly labored 
turn from him after years of friendship, — to see the 
tender seeds of piety spring up and ripen in hearts that 
he has watched and guarded for many years, and, just 
as the fruit is ready to be gathered, one who has neither 
sown nor watered come in and reap the harvest. 

The extracts which have been given from his ser- 
mons are a very inadequate and imperfect representa- 
tion of Dr. Buckminster's power in the pulpit. The 
pathos of his voice, his earnestness of expression in the 
beseeching appeals to the heart and conscience, uttered 
with a power that would have spread terror in the 
audience, if they had not been immediately succeeded 
by pathetic entreaty to come to the fountain of refresh- 
ing waters, and to seek mercy from Him who is ready 
to save, cannot be represented by any description. His 
appeals to the audience reminded one of eloquent pas- 
sages in the sermons of Bossuet. To borrow the words 
of a contemporary, — tc It was no compliment to him to 
say that his preaching w T as eagerly sought by the parishes 
in neighbouring villages. When it was known that he 
was expected to preach, no weather, however tem- 
pestuous, and no distance, however great, w T ould keep 
the farmers' families from the Sabbath worship. The 
village meeting-house was crowded with a rapt and 
eager audience. Old people shed tears when they rec- 
ollected and mentioned sermons they had heard from 



172 LETTER OF REV. MR. FRENCH. 

him in his youth, and hymns that he had read with pecu- 
liar pathos were cherished in the memory and repeated 
many years afterwards. His prayers were spoken of 
by the aged as having comforted and raised the spirit 
far above the cares of earth ; they brought conviction 
to the sinner, peace to the contrite, and a soothing tran- 
quillity to the mourning heart." 

In speaking of Dr. Buckminster's ministerial gifts, 
I have quoted the opinions of contemporaries, and re- 
lied upon the representations of others. A letter from 
the Hon. Daniel Webster, who was, during his resi- 
dence in Portsmouth, a member ofhis church and a 
constant attendant upon his preaching, speaks of him 
thus : — "Of your father, his power and eloquence, his 
appearance in and out of the pulpit, his graceful man- 
ners, his agreeable social habits, the fervor and glow 
of his pulpit performances, I have a most lively and 
distinct recollection." 

Another,* the venerable survivor of the Piscataqua 
Association of Ministers of Dr. Buckminster's time, 
speaks of him in the following manner : — 

" I revered and loved him. His memory is very precious 
to me. But you will need nothing from my recollections in 
describing his noble person, his frank, intelligent, digni- 
fied, kind, and cheerful countenance, his unaffected and 
engaging manners, his purity and stability of character, 
his unvarying uprightness, his fidelity in the performance 
of his Christian and ministerial duties, and the habitual 
life of piety which in him was always apparent. 

" He stood very high in the opinion and affections of 
the Piscataqua Association. With nothing in his deport- 

* Rev. Jonathan French, of North Hampton, N. H. 



LETTER OF REV. DR. LOWELL. 173 

merit which savoured of self-seeking, he was venerated 
and beloved by his brethren, and admired by their people. 
At a period when ministers of the Association selected for 
themselves the preachers for their several public occasional 
meetings, Dr. Buckminster oftener than any of his brethren 
was called upon to preach. I heard him frequently, and on 
various subjects. The matter and the manner of his dis- 
courses were always eminently instructive and interesting." 

The Rev. Dr. Lowell, still pastor of the West Church 
in Boston, who may be supposed to differ in some points 
from Mr. French, coincides with him in regard and ad- 
miration for Dr. Buckminster. He thus expresses his 
opinion and his reminiscences : — 

" I do not know that I have been acquainted with one 
of Dr. Buckminster's profession, who impressed me with a 
deeper conviction of a sincere and heartfelt devotion to 
the duties of his sacred office than he did. There was 
nothing of trifling or levity about him, and nothing of aus- 
terity. He was grave, but not gloomy ; certainly not habit- 
ually so. I have always supposed that his natural dispo- 
sition was a cheerful one, and that, though it was sobered 
and chastened by his religion and his trials, it was not essen- 
tially changed. 

" In his person he was tall ; in his manners refined and 
dignified, with a countenance indicative of high mental 
superiority, as well as acute sensibility, with the kindest 
affections. And he possessed all these. He was a remark- 
able man. Had he been ambitious of any other distinc- 
tion than that of a faithful minister of Jesus Christ in the 
comparatively contracted sphere in which Providence had 
placed him, he would have attained, I am persuaded, to 
great eminence. 

" In his preaching, he dwelt often upon the terrors of the 
15* 



17 l PRIVATE AND DOMESTIC HABITS 

Lord, but if, as he should do, he made the violated law speak 
out its thunders, by him, ' in strains as sweet as angels use, 
the Gospel whispered peace.' With his talents, and unc- 
tion, and noble presence, and clear, sonorous, flexible voice, 
he could not fail to be an impressive preacher.'" 

To these I must be permitted to add one more ex- 
tract. 

" No one could be once in the presence of Dr. Buck min- 
ster and ever forget him. His noble and eminently strik- 
ing countenance, faultless in its symmetrical beauty, his dig- 
nified and graceful manners, made a deep impression, even 
before his conversation had allowed one to form an opinion 
of his eminent talents." 

The most interesting part of his character was not 
understood except by his own family. After the death 
of his first wife, he was plunged for many months in deep 
gloom. His second wife, after the first two or three 
years of her married life, was almost always an invalid, 
and occupied in rearing a young family. From these 
causes she led a life of seclusion, so that there was not 
that frequent intercourse between the pastor's family 
and the younger members of the parish which would 
have enabled them to see him in the most interesting 
relations of life, where his tenderness and kindness 
would have won their love, even more than his pub- 
lic ministrations commanded their reverence. Of his 
domestic character only those who lived under the 
same roof, and witnessed the spirit of accommodation, 
the deep, fervent, but delicate and forbearing love in 
every family relation, the genial humor, the playful 
familiarity with which he treated his elder children, the 



OF DR. EUCKMINSTER. 175 

patience and winning tenderness he showed the little 
ones, could know that, whatever reverence he might 
command in public, his fervent sensibility was the most 
attractive trait in his character. The moment his clear 
and musical voice was heard, the children were wild 
with impatient joy to be in his presence ; and then the 
infant was in his arms, the smaller children were climb- 
ing his knees ; and in their infantile complaints, no one 
had the power of soothing like himself. The youngest 
child was sent from home to nurse ; the distance was per- 
haps half a mile ; every day during the winter, when the 
snow or rain did not actually descend with violence, the 
little girl w T as brought home in her father's arms, and 
carried back again in the afternoon by the same tender 
guardian. And, with all his tenderness of feeling, it was 
his deep sense of duty, of parental responsibility, that 
made him so careful, so incessantly watchful, over his 
children. 

His habits were as exact as frequent domestic inter- 
ruptions, with a large family, could permit them to be. 
He had almost a passionate love for gardening, and in 
summer the rising sun usually found him there. His 
were always the earliest pease, cucumbers, etc., and when 
his little girls were old enough, he assisted them to keep 
their small flower-borders rich and fragrant with early 
blossoms. In the winter, the wood-pile was substituted 
in the early morning instead of exercise in the garden ; 
and young men, students of law in Portsmouth, among 
them Daniel Webster himself, were invited to join him in 
sawing wood. I believe, however, that, after one trial, 
they gave him no opportunity to repeat the invitation. 

It was his unfailing practice to finish his sermons be- 
fore noon on Saturday, and the afternoon of that day 



176 MINISTERIAL VISITS. 

was given to visiting the sick or afflicted of the parish ; 
other afternoons of the week were devoted to general 
visiting. Those who had long been unable to attend 
meeting depended upon their Saturday afternoon visit, 
and were in the habit of saying that their Sabbath began 
at the hour when their pastor came to pray with them. 

I should leave a beautiful trait of Dr. Buckminster's 
character untouched, did I omit to mention his tender 
and respectful attentions to the aged. The parents 
of his second wife dwelt at York, on the Maine side 
of the Piscataqua River, eight miles distant from Ports- 
mouth. Madam Lyman was a most lovely example 
of attractive old age. She retained the vivacity, the 
quickness of perception, the gentle dignity, and the win- 
ning sweetness, which we are apt to think belong exclu- 
sively to the younger periods of life. She had been 
educated by Mr. Moody of York, one of the distin- 
guished Puritan divines of our country, and she was 
familiar with the old English poets ; quotations from 
which she would frequently introduce into familiar con- 
versation. It may be thought that this w T ould have a 
ludicrous air of 'pedantry ; but the quotations were so 
appropriate, so evidently suggested by the topic, that 
they lost their formal air, and seemed, from her lips, the 
only thing that could be said upon the subject ; her 
son-in-law would often meet her quotations with others 
of a humorous description, as he was almost as familiar 
with poetry as herself. Dr. Buckminster visited these 
aged relatives as often as once in two or three weeks, 
and showed, by his respectful gallantry to his charming 
step-mother, " that sixty was winning, as well as six- 
teen." 

The impression may have been made in the early part 



PERSONAL CHARACTER. 177 

of this memoir that he was subject to constant depres- 
sion of spirits. No impression could be more erroneous. 
Only at two or three periods, during the whole course of 
his life, did he suffer from nervous depression. At all 
other times he was a most cheerful and fascinating com- 
panion. His company was sought by young and old, 
and, in all social visiting, the pastor's presence was indis- 
pensable to the cheerfulness of the occasion. Parties 
were not then so large but that each one might enter 
into the amusement of the whole. His imagination was 
so lively, his conversation so rich and varied, he was 
so happy in allusions to subjects that arrested the atten- 
tion, and made a lasting impression of something valu- 
able, even when amusement alone had been sought, that 
it may be safely asserted that his character, in its beauty 
and goodness, was as eloquent a sermon as those that fell 
from his lips on the Sabbath ; and his benignant counte- 
nance spoke a benediction upon all who looked upon it. 

His remarkable unworldliness, and his persuasion that 
sentiment is the treasure-bouse of happiness, and that 
young ministers especially should have in reserve, for the 
peculiar trials of their calling, the domestic affections, to 
fall back upon as the surest of all resources, made him 
think lightly of pecuniary cares. He used to encourage 
his brethren, when their means were scanty, to give them- 
selves to their appropriate work, and to confide in the 
Providence of God. He said, "As a general thing, it 
is with ministers in regard to their livings as with the 
Israelites of old in gathering manna. They gather, 
some more, some less. He that gathers much has 
nothing over, and he that gathers little has no lack. 1 " 

A few of his familiar letters to his daughters close the 
chapter. 



178 LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTERS. 

"June, 1804. 

" Mv dear Daughters : — It is unreasonable to expect 
that you should know how much interested your parents are 
in your welfare, or how anxious they are that you should 
pass the critical and most important period of youth so as 
to leave no painful or humiliating reflection for years of 
more mature life. We are thankful that God has given you 
(for we are indebted to him for all -we have) healthy con- 
stitutions, and that degree of understanding that gives us 
reason to hope, that, if you are not wanting to yourselves, 
you may pass through the ordinary stations of life with repu- 
tation to yourselves, and with comfort and usefulness to 
your friends. You have passed the more playful season of 
youth, and are now in the seed-time of life, and as you sow, 
so will you reap. While you are endeavouring to cultivate 
and improve your minds, remember it is all with the ulti 
mate view of improving your hearts. Hate every immoral 
ity. Cherish an habitual sense of the presence of God, and 
know that his eye is alwftys upon you. He. has said, ' . 
love them that love me, and they who seek me early shal 
find me.' Do not live without daily prayer. Do not pro 
fane the Sabbath by entering into any amusement unbecom 
ing the day 

My dear children, I am anxious for you, and would do 
every thing in my power to promote and secure your pres- 
ent and future felicity. If you are wise, my heart will re- 
joice ; if you are vain, foolish, and frivolous, you will mul- 
tiply the gray hairs on my head, and the sorrows in my heart. 
To God I have often commended and do again commend 
you, and pray that he would give you wisdom and grace." 

"July, 1804. 
" My dear Daughters, — The continued illness of your 
mother rendering it inconvenient for her to write, I will 
not let slip this favorable opportunity of addressing you. 






LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTERS. 179 

Doubtless your situation, at this period of your life, is highly 
agreeable to you both, and I hope it will be improving ; but 
this depends very much upon yourselves, upon your resolu- 
tion and unremitting care to form your manners, to repress 
every awkward and ungraceful habit, to study what will make 
you agreeable and useful to others, and qualify you to act, 
not a frivolous and dissipated, but a dignified and useful, part 
in life. Your dear mother used to say, that it was not any 
one particular act or motion that characterized the lady. It 
was not to walk well, to sit well, to stand well, or even to 
talk well ; it was the whole general effect of every action, 
and motion, and word, that constituted and formed the 
agreeable whole ; — 

' The thousand decencies that flow 
From all her words and actions.' 

" There is danger, from all that you may see and hear 
from young ladies collected from the different ranks and 
walks of life, that you may imbibe prejudices against the 
regular, retired, domestic life which you have hitherto lived, 
and that you may contract a fondness for gayety and fri- 
volity. But be assured, my daughters, if contentment and 
happiness are objects of desire with women, at any period of 
life, they miss their aim if they live a life of folly, frolic, or 
frivolity. If we were to live here for ever, there would be 
no contentment in such a life ; but when we consider that a 
few years must terminate our residence on earth, and then 
we must give an account of the deeds done in the body, it is 
the extreme of folly and stupidity. We are willing you 
should share in the innocent amusements of your years, but 
wish you to remember that your object should be to endeav- 
our to prepare to be useful in life, to minister to the comfort 
of your connections, and the support of religion. Be good 
and obedient to your instructors, careful observers of their 
pleasure, condescending and affectionate to your compan- 
ions ; but be not dupes to their follies or whims. Be always 



ISO LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTERS. 

merry and wise. I am willing you should amuse your- 
selves, but be serious and remember you are old enough not 
only to say y but to pray, your prayers. 

" Your affectionate father." 

Although there are some scores of such letters as the 
above, addressed to his daughters while they were at 
boarding-school, only a very k\v have been selected, as 
a more faithful impression of Dr. Buckminster's char- 
acter is given by inserting those letters that are more 
directly upon the subject of religion. 

The tenderness of the father for his daughters in- 
creased as he advanced in life. One of his younger 
girls having been sent to Boston, for the purpose of at- 
tending a dancing-school for one quarter, the anxious 
father wrote to her at least every week, and sometimes 
more frequently. 

" August 22d. 1811. 

:; Mr dear F., — Having no mother to write to you and 
advise you, you must suffer a father, as far as he is able, to 
attempt to supply that inexpressible loss, and I am persuad- 
ed, my love, that you will respect his counsel. My object 
in sending you to dancing-school is not so much that you 
may learn to dance, as that your manners may be formed, 
and that you may be able to conduct yourself with propri- 
ety. I was very much gratified to receive a letter from 
you, the first you have" ever written to papa ; it came safe, 
and was a very pretty fetter. I noticed that it appeared to 
be written in a great hurry, but such things will happen 
when ladies are full of business and full of cares. Though 
I am desirous you should have an education that will enable 
you to appear without blushing in the society of your equals, 
and form you to be useful and agreeable, yet my principal 
concern should be that you may be educated to know God 
and Jesus Christ, and be trained up to fear, love, and serve 



LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTERS. 181 

him. I hope, my daughter, you will not forget the religious 
education you have received, nor neglect to read the Bible 
every day, and pray to God to take care of you, and bless 
you, and keep you from offending him, while you are grow- 
ing up to serve him in this ensnaring world. Be sure I shall 
pray for you, love, every day, and it would be a pleasure to 
me to know that you prayed for your father and your broth- 
ers and sisters. I hope they pray for you. I know they 
love you. Be a good girl, and every body will love you. 

" I hope you will retain your affection for Portsmouth, 
and, though contented wherever you stay, you will always 
give the preference to your father's house till you get one 
of your own. 

" I preached yesterday to my people from Timothy's 
knowing the Scriptures from a child. He was an excellent 
youth, and this early religious knowledge was a principal 
cause of his excellence. The Bible gives good directions 
for our worldly comfort and prosperity, and it is the only 
book that shows how sinners may be forgiven and made 
happy. It says, and there never was a juster saying, that 
1 favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman that 
feareth the Lord, she shall be honored ! ' 

" We all send love, from the oldest to the youngest, by 

" Your affectionate father." 
"September 2d, 1804. 

"My dear F., — I have so many cares and avocations, 
that I have but little time to write. I am sorry, when you 
have so much time on hand, that you should stand upon 
punctilios with papa. If you knew how much I love you, 
and am concerned for your welfare, you would think of 
me every day, pray for me when you prayed for yourself t 
and write to me whenever you could. I send you a little 
book with an address on one of the blank leaves from your 
dear father's heart ; if you have never seen it, I hope it 
will please you ; if you have seen it, yet, for your father's 
16 



182 LETTERS TO HIS DAUGHTERS. 

sake and your own, you will read it again and again. But 
there is no book, my dear Frances, like the Bible. Let no 
business nor pleasure, no company nor care, prevent your 
reading and recollecting some part of it every day. Other 
books may make us wise for this world, but this, believed 
and obeyed, will make us wise to salvation, through faith 
that is in Jesus Christ. If others neglect the Bible, or speak 
lightly of it, O, do not you ! Remember who has said, ' What 
shall it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his 
own soul ? ' 

" I find you have a desire, my little daughter, to attend 
the dancing-school ball, and I would not so far tlrwart your 
inclinations as to forbid it ; but I would caution you against 
thinking that to figure at a ball is any essential part of a 
lady's education, who intends to form the refined and ele- 
vated character which I hope it will be the ambition of my 
daughters to attain. No lady is at any time more respected 
for distinguishing herself in these sportive exhibitions. I 
sent you to dancing-school, in the hope that you would ac- 
quire an easiness of manners that would render you grace- 
ful and respectable in the formal or the family circles that 
you may be connected with in life. 

" I presume, by your letter to one of your sisters, that 
you have been to the theatre. I hope the edge of your curi- 
osity is taken off, and that once will suffice for such an 
amusement. The theatre, my dear daughter, is a danger- 
ous place for young women, although it is the fashion to 
praise it, and talk about those who distinguish themselves 
there. Yet who esteems an actor upon the stage ? Who 
ever came home from a play better fitted in mind or heart 
to read the Bible, pray to God, and lie down upon his bed 
prepared for sleep or death ? 

" Your affectionate father, 

" J. BUCKMINSTER." 




f" 




u-r, 




tsL^^-^C-i^^^L/l L<— - 



CHAPTER XI. 

JOSEPH S. BUCKMINSTER. HIS THEOLOGICAL STUDIES. 

CORRESPONDENCE. HIS INVITATION TO BRATTLE STREET 

CHURCH. HIS ORDINATION. 

1804. Nearly a year had passed since the corre- 

Aged 20. spondence we have inserted between the father 
and son,* and while domestic cares pressed heavily upon 
the former, the sorest of all his disappointments was the 
wavering and unsettled faith of his son upon some doc- 
trines which the father believed essential to true piety, 
to the culture of the religious affections, and to all use- 
fulness and success in the profession he had chosen. 

It has been seen that Joseph did not pursue his stud- 
ies in the customary manner, which, as there were no 
schools of theology at that time, was usually by residing 
in the family of a clergyman, and studying divinity, as 
law and physic were studied, under the direction of a 
master. As the study of divinity was almost wholly 
technical, that is, the study of the forms and phraseology 
which the divine science had taken in the hands of man, 
two or three years was ample time to furnish a candidate. 
Joseph seems early to have taken a more liberal view 
of the studies requisite to his profession. In one of his 
college themes there is a humorous description of the 

* Pages 131 - 150. 



1S4 



JOSEPH S. BUCKMINSTER. 



manner of finishing a candidate for the ministry. He, 
on the contrary, thought that no culture could be too 
generous for this, in his estimation, the most noble of 
professions ; that every branch of human knowledge 
should contribute to form and enrich his mind who was 
to address every class of persons, upon subjects the 
most momentous and of imperishable value. And as 
the preparation could not be too liberal, so the acquire- 
ments and the additions to his rich stores of preparation 
should never cease, but go on augmenting to the end 
of life. 

His father retained the old-fashioned idea, that it was 
indispensable for a student of divinity to live with a cler- 
gyman already settled, and learn ministerial duties from 
his example. That Joseph's studies were pursued in a 
manner different from the usual course is undoubtedly 
true ; but with the privilege of obtaining books from the 
College library, which he could not have enjoyed by re- 
siding in a remote country village, the society of the 
learned of all professions, and the excitement of mind 
that is obtained in all literary pursuits, where the chain 
of thought is kept bright by the perpetual collision of 
different intellects, must have more than counterbalanced 
the advantages of private instruction in ministerial duties. 
There is also a class of duties for which little prepara- 
tion of the intellect can be received from books or from 
instruction. To comfort the afflicted and bereaved, to 
soothe the guilty or agitated soul, to support with tender 
sympathy the lonely mind as it approaches the gate of 
death, to be what Jesus was to the sisters and Lazarus, 
the heart itself is the best, and perhaps the only, in- 
structor. He who does not feel cannot teach upon 
such occasions; — the silent pressure of the hand from 



HIS THEOLOGICAL STUDIES. 185 

a heart deeply moved is better than whole volumes of 
formal consolation. 

There are, fortunately, the means of showing, from a 
journal of Joseph's studies, kept very exactly, the year 
previous to his settlement in Brattle Street, that his read- 
ing was extensive, comprehensive, and most conscien- 
tious, and that, in compliance with his father's advice, 
he faithfully studied Orthodox writers. He made an 
accurate analysis of most of the books that he studied, 
which is too long to be inserted here. The part of 
the journal which is afterwards inserted is from De- 
cember, 1803, to December, 1804. It probably gives 
a fair account of his manner and course of study, and 
the theological student of the present day can judge 
how far it would have been better to have yielded to his 
father's earnest advice, to put himself under the guidance 
of some settled or aged minister. No doubt, the helps 
that students have since derived from the introduction 
and translation of German theology, the study of the 
German language, the various learned and critical re- 
views, which were then almost unknown, the establish- 
ment of professorships and schools, — the impulse given 
to theological studies by all these aids would have been 
of incalculable advantage to him, — would have abridged 
his labor and cheered him on his solitary path. During 
this whole year, also, he was harassed and distressed by 
his father's disapproval of his method of study, and by 
the withholding of his consent to his advancement in his 
profession. This alone must have thrown disheartening 
uncertainty over all his pursuits ; and if he could have 
been discouraged, it would have turned him aside from 
that which he always felt was the sure direction and 
leading of Providence. 
16* 



186 RECOMMENCES PREACHING. 

How sad are the reflections that follow from reading 
the record of his studies ! He had learned the mastery 
of his tools, and had laid out a great plan upon a world- 
wide area, lengthening out, also, to the end of life, where 
the ardor of pursuit would never flag. And had a long 
and healthful life been allotted him, his favorite passion 
would have cheated it of its loneliness. " And what," 
as he said of another, " might not have been expected 
from him, had he enjoyed the lights that have been 
thrown upon criticism and theology since his death ? " 

Notwithstanding the matter seemed finally settled, in 
the last letters that passed between father and son, the 
friends of the latter, in Boston and Cambridge, still 
urged him to preach. In the beginning of September 
he visited Portsmouth, and we infer, as the subject was 
not again mentioned, that he satisfied his father's scru- 
ples so far as to obtain his consent to his preaching. 
There seems to have been a silent cons'ent between 
father and son, that differences of opinion should sink 
away, and that they should stand together, although on 
opposite sides of theological ground, firm to both of 
them, joining hands across the abyss that separated 
them ; the father trusting to time to fill the chasm, the 
son to parental tenderness to overlook it. 

Joseph makes this entry in his journal, in September, 
1804: — "Returned from Portsmouth ten days ago. 
By the persuasion of Boston friends, and the consent of 
my father, I recommence preaching. Last Sabbath of 
September preached for Mr. Cushing of Waltham, 
Matthew xi. 29: ' Learn of me, for I am meek and 
lowly of heart.' What its issue will be I know not. If 
I could satisfy myself and my father better in undertak- 



INVITATION FROM BRATTLE STREET CHURCH. 187 

ing this work, I should go on with a lighter heart, not- 
withstanding the peculiar difficulties of my situation." 
A number of the leading men of the Brattle Street 
society went to Waltham upon this occasion to hear his 
first sermon, and the result was another pressing invita- 
tion to preach for that society. 

On October 21st, 1804, he preached for the first time 
at Brattle Street. After the entry of this fact in his 
journal, he adds, — " May I dare to say, Deo juvante ! " 
The people of Brattle Street Church were very prompt 
in their measures. At their next meeting it was voted 
unanimously, tc That the committee for supplying the 
pulpit be requested to invite Mr. Buckminster to preach 
to us four Sabbaths, upon probation, w 7 ith a view to 
settle as our minister." Upon which he received the 
following letter from the chairman : — 

" Sir, — As chairman of the committee for supplying the 
pulpit in the parish of Brattle Street in Boston, I have the 
pleasure to transmit to you the inclosed vote of that society. 

"From the unanimity that prevailed when the vote was 
passed, it may be considered as a leading step towards form- 
ing a connection which I hope will promote their interest 
and your happiness. The office of minister to this ancient 
society will be an office of care and anxiety ; but, from the 
character of the parish, I think you may reasonably con- 
clude that you will for ever receive from its members all the 
candor and support necessary to your station as a minister. 

" I remain, with ardent wishes for your health and useful- 
ness, your sincere friend and humble servant, 

" James Sullivan." 

In his answer, Mr. Buckminster says : — " In pursu- 
ance of this vote, I consider myself engaged to supply 



1 N ^ EFFECT OF HIS PREACHING. 

the desk in Brattle Street for four Sabbaths ; but I wish 
that this engagement may not be considered as an ex- 
pression or intimation of a final determination in conse- 
quence of any future proceedings of the society." 

It may, perhaps, excite surprise in those unacquainted 
with our society, to find the Brattle Street Church so 
ready to invite as their pastor a young man of only 
twenty years, and he so prompt to accept such large 
and heavy responsibilities. It had been the habit of 
the place, and of Brattle Street especially, to call very 
young men, and, if they were found inadequate, to give 
them an assistant preacher, and that the society pro- 
posed to do in this instance. It must be recollected, 
also, that Joseph, though young in age, had been four 
years preparing for his profession, and that he had a 
strong conviction that only a short time would be al- 
lowed him in which to complete his work. 

His preaching, together with that of Rev. W. E. 
Charming;, who had just been settled in Federal Street, 
was said by Dr. Kirkland to have formed an era in the 
history of the pulpit. The sermons of the New Eng- 
land divines had hitherto been rather commentaries upon 
Christian doctrines ; or, if upon ethical subjects, they 
were supported by a long array of texts of Scripture ; 
argumentative they were, and requiring the closest atten- 
tion and exercise of the intellect to be appreciated and 
understood. The}' were not glowing essays addressed 
to the intellect, the heart, and the affections, like the 
sermons of Charming, who had just begun his brilliant 
career, and whose thoughtful and fervid eloquence drew 
to him crowds of devoted and admiring listeners. A 
contemporary thus speaks of Mr. Buckminster : — "I 
cannot attempt to describe the delight and wonder with 



EFFECT OF HIS PREACHING. 189 

which his first sermons were listened to by all classes 
of hearers. The most refined and the least cultivat- 
ed equally hung upon his lips. The attention of the 
thoughtless was fixed. The gayety of youth was com- 
posed to seriousness ; the mature, the aged, the most 
vigorous and enlarged minds, were at once charmed, 
instructed, and improved."* 

Many gifts for a pulpit orator were united in him, but 
there was one quality that made his preaching so emi- 
nently effective. It was intellectual sincerity. The 
truths he enforced were not only clear to his heart and 
beautiful to his imagination ; they were the strongest 
faith of his intellect. He not only loved the truths he 
preached for their softening and civilizing influence ; he 
believed likewise that they were the power of God unto 
salvation. This entire conviction of the intellect is aside 
from moral purity or pious affections ; it is to the soul 
what the breath of life is to the body. 

His father, hearing the flattering reports of his preach- 
ing, writes to him in a strain calculated to chasten the 
pride of applause, and apparently without any elation 
himself. 

" Dec. 3d, 1804. 

" My dear Son, Common fame speaks of your 

preaching with general acceptance. This was to be antici- 
pated from the expectation that was raised about you, but 
nothing is more fickle than the applause of the multitude, 
excited by showy talents. Be not elated. Your own letter 
intimates that your friends flatter you that the society to 
which you are preaching will be united in you. If they 
are understandingly united, your wishes may perhaps be 

* Mr. Thacher's Memoir. 



190 VOTE OF THE PARISH. 

gratified. Do not, my son, trust to the favor of man ; look 
to God, from whom cometh every good and perfect gift; 
and may he bless you, soul and body, for time and for 
eternity ! " 

On November 10, 1804, the society in Brattle Street 
voted, with only one dissentient voice, to invite him to 
become its pastor. The proceedings of the society 
were as follows : — Judge Sullivan, Moderator. Ma- 
jor Melville made a motion that Mr. Buckminster should 
be invited to preach four Sabbaths, with a view to set- 
tlement. Seconded by H. G. Otis. A unanimous vote. 
Mr. Cooper observed that he was not sufficiently in- 
formed of Mr. B.'s orthodoxy, and threw out hints of 
Arianism and Socinianism. Judge Sullivan observed 
that he assented to the church covenant. Mr. Hancock 
observed that he had no fears. Mr. Cooper desired 
a day of prayer. It was overruled. The committee of 
the parish were desired to make the necessary prepara- 
tions to expedite a settlement in case the call was ac- 
cepted. 

Thus we see, that, in this ancient and orthodox 
church, there was no concealment. All was openly 
conducted. The candidate's answer was given upon 
the second succeeding Sabbath. He does not attempt 
to conceal the gratification he felt in finding his services 
so highly appreciated by them ; but, not having com- 
pleted his twenty-first year, his youth induces him to 
propose that a colleague should be settled with him. 

" Gentlemen, — No rule of propriety or delicacy requires 
me to forbear all expression of pleasure at the testimonies 
of approbation and good-will which have marked the pro- 



HIS ANSWER. 191 

ceedings of your society ; neither am I sensible of any ad- 
vantage which would result from the longer delay of an 
answer to an invitation adopted with such unanimity, and 
recommended by such encouragement. But while I give 
you this early intimation that I have concluded to accept 
your proposals, I should be unfaithful to you and to my- 
self, if I did not express my apprehensions that you will be 
called to overlook many deficiencies, and to excuse many 
mistakes, in one whose youth and consequent inexperience, 
united with precarious health, will ask for a continuance 
of all the indulgence which his past intercourse with you 
encourages him to expect. 

" If,' in the course of events, an opportunity should occur 
of associating with me another pastor, much of our mutual 
anxiety might be relieved, and the interests of a numerous 
society judiciously consulted. But if the cause of Christ 
should not be found to suffer from the insufficiency of my 
single efforts, I trust I shall be disposed to thank that God 
in whose strength alone the weak are strong, in whose wis- 
dom the inexperienced are wise, and with whose blessing 
the most feeble labors will not prove unsuccessful. If God 
should spare my life, I hope some of its most cheerful and 
permanent consolations will be found in the uninterrupted 
harmony, the increasing affection, and the spiritual improve- 
ment of this large society. To instruct the ignorant, to re- 
claim the wandering, to console the afflicted, to reconcile 
the alienated, to declare the whole counsel of God, and, 
at the same time, to give no offence in any thing, that the 
ministry be not blamed, are duties which no pastor can 
even partially perform, unless encouraged by your utmost 
charity and aided by your public and private prayers. 

" For these, then, I ask, and may that God who has hither- 
to blessed the religious interests of your society in granting 
you a succession of luminaries whose light has not yet de- 
parted, though their orbs have set, continue to build you up 



192 LETTER FROM HIS FATHER. 

in faith, charity, purity, and peace, and give you at last an 
inheritance among them that are sanctified. 

" J. S. BUCKMINSTER." 

The noble, considerate, and generous sentiments by 
which the Brattle Street society were ever governed in 
their relations with him ; the indulgence with which they 
ever regarded his youth, and the consequent deficiencies 
of his experience ; the cordiality with which they met 
his every wish ; the tenderness and sympathy with which 
they looked upon the embarrassments occasioned by his 
illness, were met by him with feelings of the deepest 
gratitude. The time that he was their pastor was ren- 
dered the happiest portion of his life ; and had it pleased 
God to lengthen his days, the tenderest relations, no 
doubt, would have been knit between them. 

His father was now consulted, whether he would take 
part in the ordination. The son's letters are lost, but 
his father wrote as follows : — 

" Dec. 14, 1804. 

" My dear Son, — I received your letter last evening, 
having been expecting one for several days. The contents 
were such as I anticipated, after having heard of the par- 
tiality with which your preaching was received. If that 
church and society have chosen you for their minister, and 
you choose to settle with them, I know of nothing to hinder 
it. Every society has a right to choose its minister, and the 
minister is bound to follow what he believes to be the lead- 
ing of Providence. I suppose the votes you mention were 
given by the society, not by the church in distinction from 
the society ; if so, there is some informality in the process. 
The church should lead in calling a minister, and the par- 
ish concur ; for parishes are not known in the Gospel, nor 
in ecclesiastical councils. I know not whether this distinc- 
tion is observed in Boston and its vicinity. 



CORRESPONDENCE. 193 

" You will doubtless, my son, accept the call, and they 
will wish you inducted as soon as possible. Even if I had no 
scruples upon my mind respecting the sentiments you en- 
tertain, I should be willing 1 to be excused from any part in 
the tender and affecting scene, and I should be glad to spare 
you from that anxiety which sons feel respecting the per- 
formances of their fathers. And under present circumstan- 
ces this anxiety will be increased on your part, lest your 
orthodox, or rather, bigoted, father should mortify you with 
his theology, and perhaps offend the society over which 
you are to be settled. Therefore I should much prefer 
to be left out of the affair 

" It is a great and arduous work, my son, upon which 
you are entering ; but he that desires the office of a Bishop 
desires a good work ; and if he enter upon it with proper 
furniture, with right views and motives, sensible where his 
strength lies, he will be supported under all his burdens, 
and receive out of the fulness that there is in Christ 
(in whom dwells the fulness of the Godhead bodily) ac- 
cording to his necessities. God forbid that I should cease 
to pray for you, and I hope, my son, that you will maintain 
constant and fervent prayer in your closet. Study upon 
your knees, my son, and search the Scriptures with humility 
and prayer. I hope God will guide you into all truth, and 
that the Spirit will bring to your remembrance the things 
wherein you have been instructed in j^our youth. 

" As you will now be a minister in Boston, where tempta- 
tions and dangers are many, permit a father to exhort you 
to have regard to. your health. Resolve fixedly not to go 
to large dinners or entertainments in any frequency ; and 
do not join parties of mere amusement. Your predecessors 
were perhaps injured by such indulgence, and their lives 
shortened; take a good portion of regular exercise, not 
barely in visiting, but in riding, walking, or in sawing wood. 
I hope you will rise early, and not spend your nights in 
17 



194 CORRESPONDENCE. 

study. Sad experience will teach you that this practice is 
hurtful to the delicate structure of the nerves. I can say 
no more, but commend you to God. Although in many 
things I have doubtless failed in parental duty, my con- 
science testifies that I have always had at heart your best 
good, and it will ever be a subject that will rise up and lie 
down with me. 

" P. S. As I have expressed in the letter, it will be more 
agreeable to me to take no part in the act of your settle- 
ment ; but if it should be your wish that I should preach, 
I suppose that could be done without my taking any part 
in the council of ordination." 

"Dec. 31st, 1804. 

" My dear Son, Since it seems to be your wish 

that I should attempt to preach at your ordination, I have 
been throwing together some thoughts upon a subject not 
very foreign from those you suggest to me, but they are at 
present in the state of the world at the very beginning of the 
creation. I shall endeavour to reduce them to some form, 
in order that, if your mother's health will permit, I may be 
able to be with you, and support you, on the day that must 
be anticipated by you with great seriousness and anxiety. 
I would by no means dictate to you respecting a preach- 
er in case I should fail, but I am sorry that Dr. Morse 
should be unpopular with any of your society, or that you 
should feel as if any of the society did not esteem and 
respect him. 

" If I were as much of a Hopkinsian on some points 
as you, my son, are upon others, I should be glad they 
had thought of Mr. Appleton* for -Cambridge [for Hollis 
Professor of Divinity]. I think there is no man so likely 
to render calm and to keep quiet the two opposite parties, 
and to preserve Cambridge from becoming the arena of 

* Afterwards President of Brunswick College. 



ORDINATION OF J. S. BUCKMINSTER. 195 

theological discord ; but the loss to me, to the Academy, 
and to our Association would be irreparable. 

" You must be prepared with another preacher, lest your 
mother's health should forbid my being with you. She 
has frequent ill turns that chill the ardor of the hopes I 
sometimes form of her recovery. I desire to be humble 
under all God's rebukes, and receive submissively all his 
dealings. I hope the clouds he spreads over my prospects 
here will serve to brighten the scene beyond the grave. 
Happy he who can say, ' Yea, doubtless I esteem all things 
but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Jesus Christ 
my Lord.' That you and I, my dear son, may have this 
knowledge, and through it, comparatively , despise all earth- 
ly things, may God give us grace sincerely to pray ! 
" Your affectionate father, 

" J. BlJCKMINSTER." 

The day for the ordination had been appointed for 
the 30th of January, just a year after the society had 
first asked him to preach upon probation, when he had 
been held back by his own youth and his father's anx- 
iety. A most severe snow-storm occurred on the 28th, 
but, notwithstanding the depth of the snow, his father 
arrived the evening before the appointed day. 

Joseph makes this record of the ordination in his 
journal : — u The council met at ten o'clock. Papers 
were produced. Dr. Kirkland moved for a confession 
of faith. It was read. No objection was made to it. 
My father preached. The ordaining prayer was by 
Dr. Lathrop. Charge by Dr. Cushing. Concluding 
prayer by Dr. Morse. Fellowship of the churches 
by Mr. Emerson. Psalm and benediction by myself. 
Every thing proceeded, by the blessing of God, with 
perfect decorum, and the solemnities were more inter- 
esting than usual." 



196 EXTRACT FROM DR. BTCK.MINSTEr's 

The sermon, of which the text, chosen by Dr. Buck- 
minster, was, " Let no man despise thee." was not 
certainly one of his happiest efforts. It was too desul- 
tory, and, as he said, "the heart of 'a parent, that 
anxious, busy thing, could scarcely be diverted from 
the image of his son while addressing superiors in age 
and standing."' 

The address to his son at the conclusion is now deep- 
ly significant to those who know the peculiar tenderness 
of the relation between them, and how - it had been 
strained and wounded by the conscientious scruples 
that led them to different conclusions in their doctrinal 
sentiments. 

" My son, the day has arrived in which you are to be 
completely invested with that office, divine in its origin, 
important in its design, and beneficent in its influence, of 
which you have been emulous from your earliest years, and 
which you have always kept in view in your literary pur- 
suits. While I have endeavoured to restrain your ardor and 
check the rapidity of your course, motives of concern for 
the honor of God, and for your reputation and comfort, in- 
fluenced my conduct. But a power paramount to all human 
influence has cast the die, and I bow submissively. God's 
will be done ! 

i; In the hours of parental instruction, when my speech 
and affection distilled upon you as the dew, you have often 
heard rne refer to the cheering satisfaction with which I 
presented you at the baptismal fount, in the name of the 
sacred Trinity, and enrolled you among the members of 
Christ's visible family : would to God I might now lead you 
with the same cheering hope to the altar of God, and lend 
you to the Lord as long as you shall live ! But the days 
are past in which you can depend upon the offering of a 



ORDINATION SERMON. 197 

parent. To your own Master you stand or fall. God grant 
the response may be, ' He shall be holden up, for God is 
able to make him stand' ! " 

And thus he pleaded for his son with the society : — 

" The heart of a father, alive to the interests of a s5n 
and not indifferent to the honor of the Gospel, recoiled 
from the idea of his beginning his ministerial efforts upon 
so public a theatre, and before so enlightened an audience ; 
and the hope that longer delay and greater experience 
would render him more equal to the duties of the ministry, 
and more worthy of the esteem and respect of his fellow- 
men, induced me to yield with reluctance to your early re- 
quest to hear him as a candidate. But since your candor 
and charity have silenced my scruples, and your affection 
and judgment have become surety for the youth, and he 
himself has said ' he will go with you,' I yield him to your 
request. Bear him up by the arms of faith and prayer. 
Remember him always in your devotional exercises. May 
God have you and your pastor within his holy keeping ! 
May he shed down upon you unitedly his celestial dews, 
that you may be like a watered garden, and like a spring 
whose waters fail not ! " 



17 



CHAPTER XII. 

EXTRACTS FROM SERMONS. ILLNESS. MUSIC. — LETTERS. 

^805. The father, having left his Benjamin in Bos- 

Aged 21. ton, returned, and the son appeared to begin his 
ministry under the happiest auspices ; but he enters in 
his journal, immediately after the ordination, — " Alas ! 
who knows what is before him ? " The very next day 
he was seized with a severe fever, brought on, no doubt, 
by anxiety and fatigue, and he was not able to commence 
his ministry till the beginning of March. Although at 
first a severe disappointment to him, it was a season rich 
in valuable instruction. Besides the lessons of patience 
and resignation, it taught him the value of sympathy, and 
of some of the virtues that dwell almost exclusively in the 
sick-room, — the endurance and unwearied tenderness 
of woman, and the value of those nameless services, that 
the poorest individual may render, but which the mines of 
Peru can never repay ; and it added new strength and 
delicacy to the bonds of friendship he was just beginning 
to form with many of his parish. The first time he 
preached, instead of the usual addresses upon the mutual 
duties of pastor and people, he took the text from the 
hundred and nineteenth Psalm : — "It is good for me 
that I have been afflicted " ; and, from some passages 
of the sermon, we learn how deeply he felt the uncer- 



DISAPPOINTMENT AND TRIAL. 199 

tainty of bis blessings, and that sinking of tbe heart which 
debility and lassitude impose. 

" Sickness teaches us, not only the uncertain tenure, but 
the utter vanity and unsatisfactoriness, of the dearest objects 
of human pursuit. Introduce into the chamber of a sick and 
dying man the whole pantheon of idols which he has vainly 
worshipped, — fame, wealth, pleasure, beauty, power, — 
what miserable comforters are they all ! Bind a wreath of 
laurel round his brow, and see if it will assuage his aching 
temples. Spread before him the deeds and instruments 
which prove him the lord of innumerable possessions, and 
see if you can beguile him of a moment's anguish ; see if he 
will not give you up those barren parchments for one drop 
of cool water, one draught of pure air. Go tell him, when 
a fever rages through his veins, that his table smokes with 
luxuries, that the wine moveth itself aright and giveth its 
color in the cup, and see if this will calm his throbbing 
pulse. Tell him, as he lies prostrate, helpless and sinking 
with debility, that the song and dance are ready to begin, 
and that ail without him is life, alacrity, and joy. Nay, 
more, place in his motionless hand the sceptre of a mighty 
empire, and see if he will.be eager to grasp it. This, my 
friends, this is the school in which our desires must be dis- 
ciplined, and our judgments of ourselves and the objects of 
our pursuit corrected." 

After enumerating some of the lessons taught by sick- 
ness, he says : — 

" We beseech you, then, do not mistake us. When we 
discourse to you of the beneficial fruits of affliction, we talk 
of no secret and magical power which sickness possesses to 
make you necessarily and immediately good and wise ; but 
we speak of fruits which must form, and swell, and ripen, — 
fruits which time must mature and watchfulness preserve. 



-00 letter upon his illness. 

We represent sickness as a discipline which you must live to 
improve, — a medicine whose operation cannot be ascertained 
if the patient dies in the experiment. O, defer not, then, I 
beseech you, defer not to the frantic hours of pain, to" the 
feverish hours of disease, to the languishing hours of con- 
finement, — defer not till then an attention to the things 
which concern your everlasting peace. You think they will 
be hours of leisure. Believe me, it will be the leisure of dis- 
traction or insensibility ; — it may be the leisure of death." 

As none of his family could be with him during his 
illness, he became acquainted with many of his parish in 
the most interesting relation, that of comforters and 
cheerers of the slow hours of convalescence, and he 
formed ties of gratitude that were never broken. 

His father wrote to him every three or four days during 
his illness. One letter only is inserted. 

" Feb. 9th, 1805. 

" My beloved Son, — We enter deeply into your suffer- 
ing situation, rendered so peculiarly trying to you by the 
time at which it has fallen on you, just as you had received 
the charge of a church, and expected to appear before them 
as their minister ; but God is the rock, his work is perfect. 
He knows how to time, influence, and overrule all his dis- 
pensations towards us. You and I, perhaps, both needed this 
check to our vanity, and this sensible conviction of our frail- 
ty and dependence, not upon ourselves, but upon him. It 
becomes us to receive evil as well as good from the hand of 
God, and we shall find it good for us to hope and quietly 
wait for his salvation. All things shall work together for 
our good if we love him, and are called according to his 
purposes. 

" I feel confidence that you are in the midst of friends, 
who will do every thing in their power to relieve and help 



CORRESPONDENCE. 201 

you. Endeavour to be submissive, my dear sod, and place 
your ultimate hope and dependence upon Him who is able 
to bring sweetness out of affliction. I trust you will find it 
good that you have been afflicted. It may, perhaps, fur- 
nish you with thoughts and reflectioDS that will enable you 
the more tenderly to sympathize with your afflicted people 
when you shall be called to see them and to administer to 
them the consolations wherewith you have yourself been 
comforted of God. We hope, also, it may be the means 
of making a change in your constitution that shall relieve 
you of the malady with which you have been exercised. 
Endeavour, my son, to preserve your mind as free as possi- 
ble from anxiety. Your pulpit shall be supplied. 'Commit 
your way to the Lord and he shall establish it ; trust also in 
him, and he will bring it to pass.' Although your pains 
are severe and weakening, we trust they are not dangerous. 
If your disorder should put on any fresh appearance, I shall 
endeavour to go up and see you, although my calls at home 
are a forbidding circumstance to such a journey. I hope 
Mr. Thacher will continue to write as often as he thinks 
proper, and that we shall soon hear pleasant tidings from 
you ; but we must refer all to the wisdom and goodness of 
God. Good night, my son. I hope you will sleep in ease 
and quietness." 

That even long after his recovery he felt deeply the 
weight of responsibility he had taken upon himself ap- 
pears from a sermon written in the course of the year. 

" My grace, says Jesus to the drooping apostle, my 
grace is sufficient for thee. Sufficient for what ? For 
health, life, toil ? Yes, my friends, and for the duties of a 
profession, of which no one knew better than this feeble 
apostle the labors and the responsibility. In a frame weak 
as the reed which every blast bends to the dust, he bore a 



208 EXTRACTS FROM SERMONS. 

spirit which disdained the iron gripe of adversity; a spirit 
which persecution only wrought up to exertions almost mi- 
raculous ; a spirit which death itself could only set free to 
expatiate in the rewards to which it had continually aspired. 
That eloquent apostle understood well the various duties 
which are implied in the cure of souls, — of souls, my 
friends, the most precious gems in the circle of God's gifts 
to his creation. And they are to be preserved, too, for God 
himself; they are to be prepared, not for earth only, but 
for heaven, — to be cleared from all the dross that now in- 
crusts them, and purified for a region of spirits, where all 
is pure, intellectual, and godlike. He, then, who would fit 
men for heaven must consult, in the exercise of his pastoral 
duties, all the grades of human capacity, and, what is more, 
all the varieties of human disposition. He must accomplish 
in himself that rare union of prudence and zeal, of caution 
and earnestness, which it is the hardest problem in human 
character to combine. He has to secure the reception of 
the Gospel with which he is put in trust, principally by 
throwing light upon the darkened understandings, or by seiz- 
ing upon the avenues to the hardened heart. A course of 
instruction that might gain the superficial would revolt the 
wise ; and the rich, the enlightened, or the consequential 
hearer may be charmed, while the poor and the ignorant 
may be perishing in silence, disappointment, or want. Paul, 
when he harangued the polite Athenians, or addressed the 
judges of the Areopagus, selected topics and employed a 
style which would not have gained a bigoted Jew within the 
precincts of the temple. The discourse which almost per- 
suaded the noble Agrippa to be a Christian is the most clas- 
sical and eloquent in the Acts. It is clothed in language 
which would not have betrayed the native of Tarsus in the 
most polished circle of Greece. The Epistle to the He- 
brews, on the contrary, if it be really the work of the Apos- 
tle, is filled with arguments of which the force could be felt 



EXTRACTS FROM SERMONS. 203 

only by a superstitious adherent to the old Mosaic ceremo- 
nies, but which would have been to the Athenians ridiculous 
and unintelligible. So, also, at the present day, a wise and 
faithful pastor cannot hope to reclaim an acute and pol- 
ished skeptic by the usual appeals to authority, or by bring- 
ing up in array the commonplaces of theology. A delicate 
and sensitive spirit, open, candid, and seeking earnestly for 
the truth, is not to be treated like a bigoted understanding, 
obscured with prejudice acquired too early to be remem- 
bered, and incrusted too deep to be washed away with per- 
suasion. There are some men, of strong, unpolished, native 
intellect, who are affected by reasonings, illustrations, and 
persuasions far different from those adapted to minds which 
have been enriched by the learning or polished by the taste 
of the times. In the differences, too, of opinion which will 
be found among believers, the aged and opinionated must 
see that his opinions are respected, even when they are 
doubted ; and he must not always suppose them to be be- 
lieved when they have not been controverted. The young 
and the presumptuous must be checked with caution, lest 
he should become indifferent or hostile ; but he must be 
seasonably converted, lest he should perish in the vanity of 
fashionable unbelief, or the pride of intellectual speculations. 
In short, Christianity is to be recommended to all the vari- 
ous measures of human capacity, now by reasonings, then 
by persuasion ; here by removing prejudices, and there by 
strengthening them ; sometimes by appeals to the heart, 
sometimes to the intellect, sometimes to the hopes, and 
sometimes to the fears ; in one word, by means as various 
as the minds which the light of celestial truth is intended 

by its Author to illumine 

" Consider, too, that all these complicated duties of the 
Christian minister are enjoined by especial sanctions. He 
is immediately and peculiarly responsible to his God. In 
his eye, the day of his examination is perpetually present. 



204 



EXTRACTS FROM SERMONS. 



Hardly dare I speak to you on this subject, my friends. 
Hardly dare I to think of the inexpressible anguish with 
which I should learn, in that solemn day of my account, that 
this man was made an unbeliever by some unwise state- 
ment of mine ; this youth was fixed in an error, which has 
colored his whole life, by my injudicious treatment of his 
doubts ; this gay spirit was lost by my omitting an oppor- 
tunity of making a serious impression upon his heart, while 
it was intenerated by sorrow ; that fine understanding was 
shattered by an affliction, which I might have assisted him 
to bear had I communicated earlier the consolations of the 
Gospel to his heart, and here is a dear friend, whose sin I 
neglected to reprove ; how awfully is his account length- 
ened because I stood beside him a silent witness of a single 
fault ! But the subject is too painful, I will not pursue it. 

" O God, I prostrate myself in the dust before thee, and 
acknowledge my insufficiency ! What in me is dark do 
thou illumine ; what is low raise and support ; what is 
wavering establish ; what is weak strengthen ; what is wrong 
forgive ! Let but thy blessing follow me, and then what is 
sown in weakness shall be raised in power, to thy glory and 
to everlasting life." 

Mr. Buckminster wanted a few months of twenty-one 
years, when he began his ministry in one of the largest 
societies in Boston. By the conditions of the will by 
which the parsonage-house was given to the Brattle 
Street parish, in perpetuity, the minister for the time be- 
ing is obliged to make it the place of his constant resi- 
dence. Convenient, and in many respects eligible, it is, 
by its public and exposed situation, near the courts and 
lawyers' offices, and not far from the commercial part of 
the city, a noisy abode for one who wishes, in his hours 
of retirement, to be a diligent and absorbed student. 



MR. BUCKMINSTER'S STUDY. 205 

Its accessibility to the then busiest part of the town ex- 
posed him to perpetual interruptions in the day-time, and 
led to the habit of prolonging his hours of study far into 
the night. The house was also too large for one who 
had no family, and no prospect of forming family con- 
nections. He went into the house, therefore, as a 
boarder with the persons already there, reserving a large 
and pleasant room for his study. This was soon made 
extremely attractive by the number of books it was his 
delight to collect, and by the interesting pamphlets and 
literature of the day, scattered all over his round study- 
table. It was the centre of attraction for all his young 
friends, and for the elders among the clergy, and was 
soon called the " ministers' exchange." 

Soon after, for his own private recreation, he added 
a chamber organ to this room, where, in the pauses of 
his hours of study, he delighted to indulge his passion 
for music. It was at first a solitary recreation, but soon 
he induced his choir to meet there to practise ; and in 
subsequent years he had concerts in his house. 

If any among the living remember this study, they 
will recollect its cheerful aspect in the sunshine of win- 
ter, and the air of retirement that was given to it by 
the closed blinds in summer, and, above all, the cor- 
dial, the cheering, the glowing expression of affectionate 
kindness with which he welcomed his friends. Here 
were passed his happiest days, in pursuits most congen- 
ial, and perhaps too attractive, for his uncertain health 
and frail organization. Fortunately, the office of a cler- 
gyman in Boston does not allow of exclusive devotion 
to study. To borrow the words of another, " It is the 
general habit of the place for the individuals of each 
society to make their minister a part almost of their 
18 



'206 INTIMATE CONNECTION 

families, a sharer of their joys and sorrows, — one who 
has always access lo them, and is always welcomed with 

distinguished confidence and affection This 

intimate connection with his people, although, to a man 
of any sensibility, a source of the most exquisite grati- 
fications of the human heart, makes a great addition 
to his toils. It makes a deep inroad upon the time he 
would give to study, and almost compels him to redeem 
it from the hours which ought to be given to exercise 
or repose. By the variety and painful interest, also, 
of the scenes and occupations to which it calls him, the 
mind is often agitated and worn down ; while the re- 
flection, which it is impossible always to exclude, of the 
insufficient ability with which his duties are performed, 
and the inadequate returns he can make for the friend- 
ship and confidence he receives, must often come over 
and oppress his spirits." # 

The above remarks apply more directly to the rela- 
tion which existed between ministers and people in the 
good city of Boston, at the close of the last century. 
Ministers were then expected to spend a very large por- 
tion of their time in visiting the different families of their 
parishes. The intimacy was so close that every joy 
and sorrow, every item of good fortune, and every trial, 
however light, was imparted to the sympathizing friend. 
The infant, from the hour of its baptism, was one of the 
lambs of his flock. If a boy, his progress was watched 
through the successive schools, and after he entered the 
college or the counting-room. If a daughter, the minister 
fixed his paternal and indulgent eye upon her, till he 
was called to consecrate her union, probably with an- 

* Memoir bv Mr. Thacher. 



OF MINISTERS WITH THEIR PARISHES. 207 

other of his flock ; and at the marriage-supper, the hon- 
ored place at the left hand of the bride was reserved 
for him. 

The minister and his flock passed through life, render- 
ing to each other countless mutual services ; and, when 
the pastor stood at the grave of a parishioner, paying 
the last tribute of earth to earth, he felt as though he 
had lost a member of his household. The sermons of 
such a minister could be neither searching nor pungent. 
He looked so nearly into his parish, that their faults 
must have been lost to the mental eye, by the thousand 
excuses he was impelled to make for them. Then he 
could scarcely speak of faults and follies which he had 
observed, without making an application so distinct as 
to rend the veil of charity which should cover a multi- 
tude of sins. 

The young ministers who were settled at the begin- 
ning of this century found it necessary to modify in some 
degree the custom of the place, — to spend less time 
at the social fireside and more at the study-table. If 
they would render their sermons such as would satisfy 
themselves, and such as their societies demanded, they 
must give up the enjoyment of the almost daily hospi- 
tality of some kind parishioner ; and the fine leg of mut- 
ton or the famous turkey must be eaten without the bless- 
ing being asked over it by the favorite minister. The 
time which was gained by briefer and less frequent visits 
was devoted to the mental preparation, by which their 
sermons gained in richness of thought, in power and 
eloquence. Certainly there is no place on the face of 
the globe, where discourses from the pulpit are of a 
higher standard of excellence than in Boston. 

That Mr. Buckminster began, immediately after his 



208 



DELIGHT IN MUSIC. 



ordination, to acquaint himself intimately with his parish, 
appears from a manuscript hook, alphabetically arranged, 
of every family, and of many persons, belonging to the 
Brattle Street society. The number of persons forming 
the different families, the occupation of the parents, the 
names of the children, are recorded ; then are added, in 
Latin or French, remarks, notices, and characteristics, 
important only for him to know as their friend and spir- 
itual adviser. 

The object that next claimed his warmest interest 
and attention was the singing of the choir of Brattle 
Street Church. I have mentioned his exquisite ear, and 
the passionate love of music that appeared in his earliest 
years. Before he went to Exeter Academy, he had 
learned to blow the flute, but was discouraged by his 
father, who feared the effect upon his health. He after- 
wards took some lessons on the violin and violoncello, 
but relinquished them, as creating a too passionate love, 
that encroached upon his other studies ; but, as soon as 
he could unite his favorite pursuit with the improvement 
of the church music, he began to learn to practise upon 
the organ. His own voice was eminently musical, and 
his enthusiasm was scarcely permitted any bounds when 
he could induce a fine voice of either male or female 
performer to join the choir. One evening in the week 
was devoted to practising with the church singers in his 
own study, and these were truly his hours of relaxation 
and delight. He was sometimes so fascinated and lost 
in the sounds he could himself draw from the organ, 
that his sister, leaving him after one of these evenings, 
and thinking he would immediately retire, awoke, far 
in the night, still hearing the organ from his s^udy, and, 



MEETINGS FOR. RELIGIOUS IMPROVEMENT. 209 

upon going down, found him still sitting at the instrument, 
wholly unconscious of the flight of time. 

A few years after, he assisted in making a collection 
of tunes for sacred music. He devoted much time and 
labor in comparing and arranging such as were suited, 
either from their intrinsic value or from their sacred 
or tender associations, to the worship of the church ; 
and I believe the Brattle Street Collection, though 
small, is esteemed a valuable selection of tunes, even 
by musicians. 

One other evening in the week was devoted at this 
time to young men of his own age, and even younger, 
whom he could induce to meet him at his study and con- 
verse upon moral and religious subjects. There was 
no formality in this meeting. It was not called a prayer- 
meeting, nor a meeting for inquiry ; no publicity was 
given to it, and those who attended it were not subjected 
to observation from others. Induced by his invitation, 
or by the attractiveness which his own youth gave to 
religion, many went to open to him their anxieties, 
to satisfy an inquiring spirit, to seek direction for a 
doubting mind, to find a balm for an awakened con- 
science, or to inquire the path to religious peace. Pri- 
vacy was secured by removing the light from the entry, 
which usually indicated that he was from home, and the 
evening was closed with prayer. One of the objects 
of this meeting was to suggest and to lend books to 
those young persons who evinced a taste for reading and 
self-improvement. May we not suppose that many young 
men, who afterwards led eminently Christian lives, re- 
ceived some of their best religious impressions from these 
evening meetings ? 

18* 



210 BAN1CAH ADAMS'S 

About this time he corrected for the press Miss Han- 
nah Adams's History of New England, and made such 
alterations for a second edition as were advisable to ren- 
der the book as plain and familiar as was consistent with 
elegance of style. By this and other acts of friendship, 
he secured the grateful attachment of that simple, un- 
assuming nature, the childlike innocency of whose mind 
and manners formed a curious contrast with the ab- 
struse character of her investigations and pursuits. 

At a little later period of his life, while Miss Adams 
was compiling her history of the Jews, the most fre- 
quent visitors to his study perceived, as they entered. 
seated at the same table with him, diligently compiling 
her notes, and abstracted completely from present things. 
the unassuming and plainly attired form of this simple 
old lady. She was so familiar and so quiet, that, though 
they pursued their studies many days and weeks to- 
gether, they never disturbed or interrupted each other. 
The author of the JUemoir of JWiss Adams * has given 
so interesting an account of their intercourse, that the 
writer avails herself of it here. 

" It was on a visit to Boston that Miss Adams firs: saw- 
Mr. Buckminster. He was then about sixteen years old. 
Those who knew him well will not think her description 
an exaggerated one. ' He had then,' she said, ' the bloom of 
health on his cheek, and the fire of genius in his eye ; I did 
not know from which world he came, whether from heaven 
or earth.' Though so } r oung, he entered fully into her char- 
acter, and, before they parted, gave her a short but compre- 
hensive sketch of the state of literature in France and Ger- 
many. After he became the pastor of Brattle Street Church. 

1 Mrs. Georse G. Lee. 



DESCRIPTION OF MR. BUCKMINSTER. 211 

he, with Mr. Stephen Higginson and Mr. Shaw, the active 
founder of the Athenaeum, proposed to Miss Adams to re- 
move to Boston ; at the same time procuring for her, through 
the liberal subscription of a few gentlemen and ladies, an 
annuity for life. She had then commenced her History of 
the Jews, and nothing could have been more favorable to 
its progress or her own ease of mind, than this benevolent 
arrangement. She could never speak of her benefactors 
without deep emotion. 

" From Mr. Buckminster she received the most judicious 
and extensive assistance. She was in the habit of visiting 
him in his study, and had his invitation to come when she 
pleased, and sit and read as long as she pleased, or to take 
any books home and use them like her own. Perhaps peo- 
ple are never perfectly easy with each other till they feel 
at liberty to be silent in each other's society. It was stipu- 
lated between these students that neither party should be 
obliged to talk. But her own language will best describe 
her feelings. ' Mr. Buckminster would sometimes read for 
hours without speaking. But, occasionally, flashes of gen- 
ius would break forth in some short observation or sudden re- 
mark, which electrified me. I never could have gone on with 
my history without the use of his library. I was indebted 
to him for a new interest in life. He introduced me to a 
valuable circle of friends ; and it was through him that I 
became acquainted with Mrs. Bowdoin, (afterwards Mrs. 
Dearborn,) whose kindness and attention to me have been 
unceasing. Mr. Buckminster's character was the perfection 
of humanity. His intellectual powers were highly culti- 
vated and ennobled. Yet even the astonishing vigor and 
brightness of his intellect was outdone by the goodness of 
his heart.' 

" Mr. Buckminster assisted Miss Adams's researches, and 
procured her information for her History of the Jews. He 
took a warm interest in this oppressed people, and often 



212 ' PERSONAL QUALITIES. 

prayed for them at the communion service in the same lan- 
guage in which Jesus prayed for them : ; Father, forgive 
them, for they know not what they do ! ' 

" It is impossible not to look back with admiration upon 
the benevolence that prompted these kind attentions ; and it 
is not a difficult effort of the imagination to enter the library, 
and view these laborious and widely dissimilar students to- 
gether. The one distinguished by the natural ease, grace, 
and elegance of his manners ; the other, timid and helpless. 
The one, advancing with the elastic step of youth ; the other, 
declining into the vale of years; yet both drawn together 
by those sympathies which spring from the fountain of per- 
fect and everlasting good. Who would not be touched by 
the spectacle," adds Mrs. Lee, " of a young man of such 
distinguished talents, equally sought by the world of science 
and of fashion, extending a helping hand and devoting so 
large a portion of his time to a timid and unassuming wom- 
an, shrinking from the ills of life, but who derived her hap- 
piness from the same sources that he did, — literature and 
religion ? When, from indisposition, she omitted for any 
length of time her visits to his study, a kind note, or a still 
kinder visit, alleviated the infirmities of her health." * 

Miss Adams herself remarks : — "I could not have 
completed my History of the Jews, if I had not been 
animated and encouraged by his participating in the in- 
terest I felt in this extraordinary people. Though en- 
tering into the details of the sufferings of the persecuted 
Jewish nation, yet the enthusiasm of Mr. Buckminster 
inspired me, and the pleasure of conversing with him 
upon a subject with which he was intimately acquainted 
rendered the time I was writing my History one of the 
happiest periods of my life." 

* From Mrs. George G. Lee's Memoir of Miss Hannah Adams. 



PERSONAL QUALITIES. 213 

This was only one of many instances in which he 
encouraged, animated, and helped the timid and the un- 
assuming, and aided retiring merit. Among his private 
papers are many memorandums of sums obtained from 
ladies of his parish for the indigent, or for those who, 
like Miss Adams, asked only the encouragement and 
sympathy of friendship. His calls upon their bounty 
seem never to have been denied ; and among those 
whose names appear, Mrs. Bowdoin, Winthrop, Ly- 
man, Otis, Mrs. S. Cobb, — all have gone to reap the 
reward of their beneficence. 

Perhaps there never was a period in the whole of 
his short life, when he was more attractive to his friends, 
or more valuable to society. His activity was un- 
wearied, his cheerfulness had known no blight ; for the 
uncertainty that hung over his life was habitual to his 
thoughts, and was merely a check to the too impetuous 
pursuit of the riches of the mind. 

" So winning was his aspect and address, 
His smile so rich in bright felicities, 
Accordant to a voice that charmed no less, 
That who but saw him once, remembered long ; 
And some in whom such images are strong, 
Have hoarded the impression in their heart, 
Fancy's fond dreams and memories among, 
Like some loved relics of romantic song, 
Or cherished master-piece of ancient art." 

Since his settlement, his malady had very much in- 
creased. He had scarcely been settled ten months, 
when he wrote in his journal, October 31st, 1805, — 
" Another fit of epilepsy. I think- I perceive my 
memory fails me ! O God, save me from that hour ! " 

And yet, notwithstanding this perpetual admonition of 
his frailty, there never was a person in whom life was 



214 PERSONAL QUALITIES. 

more joyous and gladsome. He had a great deal of 
the Greek in his disposition. He entered deeply into 
life. Every thing in nature, every external object of 
life and beauty, was a source of joy to him. His inti- 
mate friend and biographer observes, "His head re- 
sembled the finest models of the antique," — and though 
certainly the form of the head is not an infallible sign 
of the intellectual powers, yet the character here con- 
formed to the head. Life, sentient life, was exuberant 
in him, like a morning in spring. He saw harmony, 
and grace, and beauty every where, from the smallest 
flower that sips the dew to the brightest star that shines 
in the firmament. 

" The meanest floweret of the vale, 
The simplest note that swells the gale, 
The common sun, the air, the skies, 
To him were opening paradise." 

Although he was eminently spiritual, and the unseen 
world was not a world of shadows, but of realities, to 
him, there was nothing mystical in the tendencies of his 
mind. What would have been the result of the Ger- 
man studies which he was just beginning at his death, 
can only be conjectured. The mystical element might 
have been developed as he proceeded in his inquiries. 
The joyousness of the present might have been lost in 
unsuccessful researches after the obscure and hidden ; 
and the rational interpretation of that which was vouch- 
safed to his serious studies, might have been involved in 
gropings after the impenetrable secrets of the future. 

To return for a few moments to Dr. Buckminster. 
He was at this time passing through one of the severest 
afflictions of his life, and, although only fifty-four years 



DEATH OF MRS. BUCKMINSTER. 215 

old, there appeared to be a general breaking up of the 
fountains of health. The immediate cause was the death 
of his wife, to whom he had been attached with a pas- 
sionate regard, exceeding that which he would have 
approved in another to any earthly object. She had 
formed, as he says in one of his letters, " the happi- 
ness and the ornament of his home," and now he was 
bereft of the sweetness of life. Joseph, recording her 
death in his journal, writes with fervor, " O God, sup- 
port my dear father ! " To afford his own aid in com- 
forting him, he went immediately to Portsmouth, and 
spent more than a week, preaching for his father two 
Sabbaths. 

Although her illness had been long, her death at the 
last was sudden and unexpected. It threw Dr. Buck- 
minster into an agony of grief, in which his friends feared 
for his life or his reason. The whole of the night and 
day following her decease, he remained overwhelmed 
with sorrow, his agitated footsteps pacing to and fro in 
his study, so that even his children feared to approach 
him. He was left with a family of seven children, four of 
them being very young. His eldest daughters were now 
old enough to take charge of the family, and he, soon 
recovering his calmness and faith, presided over them 
with a firmness and decision scarcely looked for in a 
man so tender in his affections. But it is the hardest 
and finest of materials, that, when drawn out into delicate 
chords, vibrates at every breath, and thrills at the touch 
of joy or sorrow. 

Dr. Buckminster was very anxious to keep his family 
together, and that they should depend upon the senti- 
ment of affection and union for their happiness. I 
have endeavoured to express the intensity of the relig- 



£16 



CORRESPONDENCE. 



ious sentiment in his life ; he was no less anxious to 
enforce the absence of all worldliness, and the depend- 
ence of the heart upon spiritual good and mutual affec- 
tion, as the aliment of life to his family. It may, per- 
haps, provoke a smile, in these days, when material in- 
terests are so supreme, and life seems mean and homely 
without the addition of luxury, to say, that his family en- 
joyed many of the best luxuries of the mind, and felt 
themselves rich, when his income could never have 
reached the amount of a thousand dollars. With this 
sum, at a time when the expenses of an education were 
much less than at present, he was able to educate both 
his sons at Harvard University. 

The letters of my brother that follow close the year. 

" August, 1805. 

'• My dear Sister, — I have purchased a very beautiful 
little book,* which I wish you to accept, though you have 
not, as the lady to whom these letters were addressed, been 
presented with a set of the British poets, (-which I hope, 
however, one day to be able to send you,) for some of them 
I know often amuse the leisure of young ladies, and I trust 
will not long be unknown to you. If I should meet with any 
thing equally elegant and pleasing, E. shall not be forgotten. 
These letters are written by one of the most correct and im- 
partial critics now living. 

" I know not but I ought to have written to both of you 
while you were left alone at the head of the family ; if I 
have been negligent, let this acknowledgment plead my 
excuse. I hope, by the time this letter reaches you, you 
have been relieved from anxiety by my father's return. 
Write to me particularly about the state of his health; 
whether it is amended by the journey ; whether the inci- 

* Aiken's Letters upon the British Poets. 



CORRESPONDENCE. 217 

dents of it were agreeable ; his companion pleasant ; wheth- 
er his expectations were answered.; and, above all, whether 
his spirits and comfort are in any degree recovered. Would 
to God that the duties of my parish had allowed me to be his 
companion ! 

" I have been very much employed of late in parochial 
duty, owing to the great sickness among children. Within 
the last month, I have attended eleven funerals. 

" Your affectionate brother. 

" P. S. I hear nothing of the baby and nurse in any of 
papa's letters. I believe he thinks me a kind of creature who 
does not care much whether you are dead or alive. How- 
ever, it is true that I am pretty much absorbed in myself, my 
sermons, my parish, my singing, and other occupations. 1 ' 

" December, 1805. 

" My dear Brother, — Nothing has given me more 
pleasure than to hear of the happy turn which your inclina- 
tions have taken towards study. The taste for it being once 
acquired, it will not easily be lost ; but, by God's blessing, 
will preserve you from many temptations to which you 
would otherwise be exposed, and provide you with a source 
of the purest pleasure in your leisure moments, if you 
should not be a professional man. And it is not necessary, 
as some imagine, my dear brother, to study one of the pro- 
fessions because you have been through the preparatory 
courses of college studies. They will adorn the life of a 
merchant or an agriculturist, and be to you only an addi- 
tional incentive to any honorable pursuit. 

" I wish you to be thoroughly grounded in your Latin and 
Greek grammars. With a perfect knowledge of your rules, 
every thing afterwards in parsing and construing will be 
easy. But a deficiency in this knowledge is very seldom 
supplied in advancing years. The preterites in Latin, and 
the anomalous verbs in Greek, are of great importance to a 
19 



218 CORRESPONDENCE. 

correct scholar. No man can presume to pass in England 
for a liberally educated man, who is deficient in quantity, or 
who is not master of prosody, and therefore makes mistakes 
in pronunciation. The knowledge of geography, history, 
logic, and rhetoric may be very much supplied in mature 
years ; but of the languages it cannot, because the memory 
then does not easily retain rules. 

" Be a good, regular, studious boy, and God will bless you. 
If you are not a learned man, you may be what is much 
better, a pious and useful one. But I sincerely hope, that, 
as your mind enlarges, you will be more and more attached 
to your books. It will give me the truest pleasure to hear 
that you are growing in every thing good and honorable, and 
that one of these days you will feel an inclination to come 
and study with your brother, Joseph." 

" My dear Sisters, — I thank you for the articles for 
my wardrobe. I could not but think, as I looked at the 
immense number of stitches that you have set for your 
brother, of the precious moments that might have been bet- 
ter employed. I send you a book,* that will, I am sure, 
agreeably amuse those moments that you can spare for 
reading. 

" The reason of my not writing before has not been ill- 
ness ; neither ought I to say it has been too many avoca- 
tions, for a man can always find time to pen a few lines, 
though the press of business may make him forget that he 
ought to write, and this has been my case. I am glad you 
have returned to the pleasures of home, and I doubt not 
you have found them only enhanced by the variety you 

have seen abroad. As to 's French, I doubt whether 

she will have resolution enough to master the first difficulties 
without assistance. If she has a little easy introductory 
book, of which, by the help of a dictionary, she can learn 

* Knox's Elegant Extracts from the British Poets. 



CORRESPONDENCE. 219 

the sense, it will be more attractive to her than to begin 
with the grammar. If not, I will send her one. 

" Thank papa for the book he sent me, and not the less 
because I already possess it, and have read it. c The Force 
of Truth,' or, at least, the force of conscience, ought to 
strike a person very powerfully, who, with a Socinian creed, 
has dared to subscribe, or to hold a living, in a church whose 
articles are unquestionably Trinitarian, as was the case with 
Mr. Scott. 

This letter is as rambling as a young lady's at a boarding- 
school. I will bid you good night, my dear sisters. Peace- 
ful slumbers, undisturbed by any gay recollections, be your 
night's blessing. You have left a good name here ; remem- 
ber, it can be preserved only by real virtues, — benevolence 
of disposition, a cultivated mind, and, as the security of all 
excellence, an inwrought sentiment of piety and moral ob- 
ligation. This is permanent ; good feeling is momentary. 
Read Miss Hamilton on Religious Principle. E., and F. 
also, pray read it. I do not mean to preach, however. 

" Your brother, J. S. B." 



CHAPTER XIII. 

ORDINATION OF A CLASSMATE. MONTHLY ANTHOLOGY. 

ANTHOLOGY CLUB. JOURNAL OF STUDIES. — LETTERS. 

In January, 1806, Rev. Charles Lowell was settled 
at the West Church in Boston. He and Buckminster 
had been college classmates and intimate friends, and 
the latter was chosen to deliver the right hand of fellow- 
ship. An unusual truth and tenderness was infused into 
the fraternal address made to the candidate by his friend, 
in a service which always owes a portion of its effect to 
natural feeling. 

" If," he says, " in offering you the fellowship of the 
churches, I should suffer myself to dwell with too much 
fondness on expressions of personal good- will, you, I know, 
would forgive me, but I should hardly have performed the 
duty assigned me by this honorable council. 

" We, and all our churches, are by this act united, not in 
the bonds of an ecclesiastical league, not under the dominion 
of infallible superiors, not for the purpose of strengthening 
the secular influence of our religious societies, nor in the 
spirit of any selfish and mercenary connection, but in those 
equal and spiritual ties which God has hitherto blessed and 
hallowed to the peace of the New England churches. For 
we are all united in the same faith and profession, in the 
same duties and hopes, in the same ordinances and liberties, 
and, as we trust, in the same spirit also, under one Lord, 



ORDINATION OF A CLASSMATE. 221 

even Jesus, and ' one God and Father of all, who is above 
all, and through all, and in all.' " 

This address was pronounced just as divisions were 
beginning in the churches of the Boston Association, and 
one of the publications of the day, speaking of it, said : 
u Notwithstanding the sanctity of the occasion, the fol- 
lowing simile was received by the audience with a mur- 
mur of approbation." 

" Is there not, amid all the varieties of opinion and faith, 
enough left us in common to preserve a unity of spirit ? 
What though the globes that compose our planetary system 
are at some times nearer than at others, both to one another 
and the sun ; now crossing each other's path, now eclipsing 
each other's light, and even sometimes appearing to our 
short-sighted vision to have wandered irrecoverably, and to 
have gone off into boundless space ; yet do we not know 
that they are still reached by the genial beams of the cen- 
tral light, and continue in their widest aberrations to gravi- 
tate to the same point in the system ? And may we not be- 
lieve that the Great Head of the Church has always dis- 
pensed through the numerous societies of Christendom a 
portion of the healing influences of his religion ? has held 
his churches invisibly together when they have appeared to 
be rushing farthest asunder ? and through all the order and 
confusion, conjunction and apposition, progress and decline 
of churches, has kept alive in every communion a supreme 
regard to his authority, a portion of the spirit of their 
Master, as a common principle of relation to him and to one 
another ? " 

He closes with these words : — 

" If I might be permitted now to express a wish for you 
and for myself, it would be this : that, as our gracious 
19* 



222 THE MONTHLY ANTHOLOGY. 

Master, when he was on earth, sent forth his seventy evan- 
gelists by two and two, to preach the Gospel in Judea, 
he would also send us forth together by his authority, would 
permit us to travel in company through the journey of a use- 
ful ministry, and would enable us to return to his presence 
together at last, rejoicing to find that our names have been 
written, with the names of our people, in the book of life." 

It was in this year that my brother began to contribute 
to the pages of the Anthology, a monthly review, which 
had succeeded the Literary Miscellany, a short-lived 
periodical, commenced the previous year in Cambridge. 
The Anthology was supported by a society of gentlemen 
in Boston and Cambridge, consisting of the youngest 
of the clergy and many distinguished laymen. It was 
planned in a wholly private manner, and the business 
was afterwards conducted at weekly evening meetings, 
held in the beginning in succession, at the houses of the 
members. This meeting took the name of, the Antholo- 
gy Club. A light supper was allowed, but it was never 
a convivial club. Perhaps it was one of the most agree- 
able literary societies that ever existed in Boston, and 
among its members were some of the most honored 
names in every profession. It will show the almost vil- 
lage character of Boston society forty years ago, and the 
early hours of fashionable parties, to mention that ladies 
would not invite company on Anthology evening, be- 
cause the meeting of the club robbed them of the pres- 
ence of the most agreeable gentlemen. 

The introductory address of the sixth volume of the 
Anthology, written by Mr. Buckminster, thus explains 
the purpose of the publication, and apologizes for its de- 
ficiencies : — 



THE MONTHLY ANTHOLOGY. 223 

" The faults of our work, of which no one can be more 
sensible than its editors, result from causes which we can 
only hope to counteract, but not entirely to remove. The 
Anthology has hitherto been supported by the unpaid and 
unregulated contributions of a few literary men, who are 
well pleased when the public profits by their reading, or 
shares in their amusement. They have yet had no extraor- 
dinary stimulus to write but the friendly curiosity and occa- 
sional encomiums of men like themselves. They are not 
enlisted in the support of any denomination, nor are they 
inspired with the fanaticism of literary crusaders, associated 
to plant their standard on territory recovered from heathens 
or heretics. They are satisfied if they can in any way con- 
tribute to the mild influence of our common Christianity, 
and to the elegant tranquillity of a literary life. They are 
gentle knights, who wish to guard the seats of taste and 
morals at home from the incursions of the ' Paynim hosts,' 
happy if they should now and then rescue a fair captive 
from the giants of romance, or dissolve the spell by which 
many a youthful genius is held by the enchantment of a 
corrupt literature. If, with these objects, they can retain the 
pleasures of lettered society, — 

' Mundseque parvo sub lare pauperum 
Ccense, sine aulseis et ostro, 
Sollicitam explicare frontem,' — 

they will try to be as insensible to the neglect and con- 
tumely of the great vulgar and the small, as they are to the 
pelting of the pitiless storm without, when taste and good 
humor sit around the fire within." * 

When it is recollected that all of the contributors to 
the Anthology were men engaged in laborious and ex- 
acting professions ; that their contributions were the 
fruits of chance half-hours, or of moments lighted by the 



224 THE ANTHOLOGY CLUB. 

midnight lamp, after days of fatiguing labor in their of- 
fices ; " that they did not pass under the rigorous review 
of any single editor " ; that each was his own censor, 
proof-reader, and critic ; — there is certainly a wonderful 
degree of unity" of purpose and harmony of sentiment, 
and a general respectability, in its pages, highly credit- 
able to the dawning literature of the day. Any one 
reading it now will be startled at the independent tone of 
its criticism. 

Among its regular contributors were the Rev. Mr. 
Emerson, and Rev. Dr. J. S. J. Gardiner, who wrote 
upon classical themes and supplied many literary anec- 
dotes. Professor Willard of Cambridge, whose articles 
were learned criticisms or reviews, Mr. William Wells, 
Mr. Frank Charming, Mr. William Tudor, were all occa- 
sional contributors. A. M. Walter, Esq., who seems to 
have been the darling of a numerous circle of friends, 
was one of its most responsible supporters. Then there 
were many very pleasant persons who belonged to the 
club, who did not contribute to the pages of its periodi- 
cal, — drones in the hive, that were too agreeable to be 
turned out. Mr. John Lowell enriched its pages with 
his graphic " Letters from Europe," in a series through 
two or three years. The papers under the signature of 
R. were valuable and rich, — supposed to have been writ- 
ten by Mr. Rockwell of Boston. There were many fugi- 
tive papers sent from regions far from Boston. Daniel 
Webster, from the rocky wilds of New Hampshire, 
enriched its pages with his winged thoughts ; and some 
eloquent papers upon Greek literature came from Maine, 
which proved, as was remarked at the time, that their 
author dwelt nearer to Athens than the editors them- 



THE ANTHOLOGY CLUB. 225 

selves.* Samuel Dexter wrote occasionally for its 
pages, and a tardy Remarker, full of calm and trans- 
parent thought, proved that Dr. Kirkland could some- 
times, amid serious cares, finish a lighter production. 

Perhaps, of some of these gentlemen, it may be said 
that they have left no productions of the pen by which 
they are remembered ; their contributions to the An- 
thology lie forgotten in its pages. But is it rational or 
fair to complain that wine has not been stored in the 
cask, and preserved for future years, from the vines 
whose clusters have been gathered from day to day, as 
soon as they were ripe, to refresh the thirsty lip, to 
soothe the sick, and to serve for the dessert at the table 
of every passing day ? There was at that time no class 
of literary men, and had there been, there was little 
encouragement given to literature. Low as was the price 
of the Anthology, it had far more readers than sub- 
scribers ; and though the contributions were all gratui- 
tous, it scarcely paid the expense of printing. 

Mr. Buckminster's anonymous contributions to the An- 
thology were very numerous. It is impossible at this time 
to know how numerous. Rough sketches are found among 
his papers of many articles which were anonymous at the 
time, and the author unsuspected. The first thing that 
was known to be his, was a letter, written while he was in 
England, containing an account of his visit to Johnson's 
birthplace at Lichfield. As Johnson is as interesting 
at this day as at the time when it was written, and as 
it is a fair specimen of his epistolary style, the letter 
is inserted here. 

" Birmingham, June 19, 1806. 

" My dear Friend, — Yesterday I travelled the whole 

* Charles Davis, Esq., of Portland. 



206 DESCRIPTION OF THE 

distance from Buxton to Birmingham (sixty-one miles) in 
a post-chaise, with a young American, born near Ports- 
mouth ; and we shall probably keep company till we reach 
the metropolis, the urbs sacra, the city of the gods. This 
charming country is worth a voyage across the Atlantic to 
behold. Ceres and Flora must have laid their heads to- 
gether, I think, to lay it out, and I have found that Thom- 
son's Summer is a perpetual commentary upon the road I 
have been travelling. 

" Yesterday, about 5 o'clock, P. M., I passed through Lich- 
field. I purposely delayed dining till this late hour, that 
I might spend a longer time on this classic ground. As 
soon as I alighted at the hotel, I inquired for the house 
where Dr. Johnson was born. I was immediately shown 
to one about two hundred rods off, and I am sure I should 
not have walked with a quicker step, or with more expecta- 
tion, to see the amphitheatre of Vespasian. 

" The house where Johnson was born stands in the cen- 
tre of the town of Lichfield, at the corner of a square, with- 
in a few paces of the market and the Church pf St. Mary's, 
I think. It is now an old three-story building, rather showy 
without, and rather shabby within. The first apartment on 
the lower floor, which was the bookstore of Johnson's father, 
is now a tinker's shop, filled with copper tea-kettles, tin 
pans, candlesticks, &c. ; while a small room adjoining is oc- 
cupied by a maker of electrical machines. In the chamber 
over this shop, once divided into two, that mighty spirit, 
destined to illuminate the generation which received him, 
and to exalt our estimate of human capacity, was ushered 
into this world. This chamber is now, as I imagine, the 
tinker's drawing-room ! There remains a small fire-place 
in one corner, and the walls are hung round with paltry 
pictures, — 

' The seasons framed with listing find a place, 
And brave Prince William shows his lampblack face.' 



BIRTHPLACE OF DR. JOHNSON. 227 

The floors are much worn, dirty, and uneven, and every 
thing within the house bears the appearance of poverty and 
decay. The tinman, named Evans, was not at home ; but 
his wife, a chatty old woman, told us, in answer to our 
queries, that the present rent which they paid was eighteen 
guineas, and that the taxes were as much more. This, to 
be sure, is quite as much as such a house would be worth in 
Boston, and nothing but its central situation can render it so 
high. The old lady then called her little grand-daughter, to 
conduct us to what is called the Parchment house, to which 
Johnson's father afterwards removed, and to show us the 
willow-tree, of which there is a tradition that it was planted 
by Johnson or his father, but nobody knows which. However 
this may be, it is one of the most remarkable trees in all 
England. It is certainly twice as large as any willow I 
ever saw in America, and it is allowed to surpass every 
other in this country. The tinker's wife told us that her 
house was frequently visited by travellers, and I dare to say 
that the gratuities which she receives for her civilities in 
showing it amount at least to the rent of the house. Here 
is a subject for meditation. A tinman is now able to secure 
a comfortable habitation by showing the chamber where 

Johnson was born that Johnson, who has wandered 

many a night through the streets of London, because he 
was unable to pay for a lodging ! 

" As we were returning to our inn, we espied a curious 
figure of an old man, with laced round hat, scarlet coat, 
with tarnished trimmings of the last age, and a bell under 
his arm. Upon accosting him, we found that he had been 
town-crier for many years, and a kind of Caleb Quotem ; 
that he always shaved Dr. Johnson when he came to visit 
Lichfield ; that his name was Jenney, seventy-four years 
old, with strength and spirits unimpaired. 

" The cathedral at Lichfield is worthy the attention of 
every traveller. Who shall say that the daily view of this 



22S LETTER ON DR. JOHNSON. 

ancient, dark, and reverend pile, once the residence of 
monks, may not have contributed to impress on the mind 
of young Johnson a superstitious veneration for the splen- 
dor of a church establishment, and have even given him 
that melancholy bias, which he discovered toward many 
of the ceremonies and doctrines of the Church of Rome. 
Indeed, I know of nothing so calculated to inspire a secret 
suspicion of the presence of the departed, as to walk through 
the long, still, and echoing aisles of a Gothic cathedral, 
lined on each side with the tombs, and ornamented with 
the figures, of men who died centuries ago ; for while you 
are trembling at the sound of your own steps in these lofty 
and silent cloisters, and seem to shrink into littleness under 
the venerable grandeur of the roofs, you can hardly bring 
yourself to believe that such a vast and solemn structure 
is uninhabited ; and after having heard the great gate close 
upon your coming out, you cannot avoid the impression, 
that you are leaving these awful retreats to some invisible 
and ghostly tenants. 

" Dr. Johnson, and David Garrick, and Gilbert Walms- 
ley, have monuments in this • cathedral very near to one 
another. You remember the Latin epitaph which Johnson 
wrote for his father's tombstone, who was buried here ; I 
know you will hardly forgive the dean and chapter, when I 
tell you, that, in paving the church, they have lately re- 
moved it, as well as another, which Dr. J. caused to be 
placed over the grave of a young woman, who was vio- 
lently in love with his father. The inscription which Dr. J. 

wrote was nothing more than this, — c Here lies a 

stranger, ob. &c.' This anecdote I had from the verger, a 
tattling old man, who showed us the cathedral. He professed 
to have been ' very intimate ' (these were his words) with 
Dr. J. His name is Furneaux." 

Besides the description of the destruction of Goldau, 



LITERARY CONTROVERSY. 229 

sent from Europe, there is a letter from Paris, contain- 
ing " A sketch of the present state of literature and 
theology in Paris. " 

There is in the pages of the Anthology a curious 
controversy between the Rev. Dr. J. S. J. Gardiner and 
Buckminster, upon the merits of Gray as a poet. This 
controversy bears some resemblance to the discussions 
between the romantic and classical schools in litera- 
ture. Dr. Gardiner maintains with dry reasoning that 
Pope's is the only true model for real* poetry. And 
Buckminster supports, in the following passage, the opin- 
ion that the most thrilling touches of sublimity and beau- 
ty are consistent with great indistinctness of images and 
conceptions. 

" It is hardly to be believed, before making the experi- 
ment, that we should be so much affected as we are by 
passages which convey no definite picture to the mind. 
We must acknowledge that there is a higher spe- 
cies of poetry than the mere language of reason. Spenser, 
Milton, and even Dryden, knew this, and they studied suc- 
cessfully the Italian poets ; but after the time of Dryden, 
our English poetry began to be formed too exclusively upon 
that of the French. The authority of Pope has been emi- 
nently useful, but the world is not yet persuaded that to be 
a poet it is indispensable to write like Pppe 

" For my own part, I take as much delight in contemplat- 
ing the rich hues that succeed one another without order in 
a deep cloud in the west, which has no prescribed shape, 
as in viewing the seven colors of the rainbow, disposed in 
a form exactly semicircular. After having read any poem 
once, we recur to it afterwards, not as a whole, but for the 
beauty of particular passages 

" The distinguishing excellence of Gray's poetry is, I 
20 



230 LITERARY CONTROVERSY. 

think, to be found in the astonishing force and beauty of his 
epithets. In other poets, if you are endeavouring to recol- 
lect a passage, and find that a single word still eludes you, 
it is not impossible to supply it occasionally with something 
equivalent or superior. But let any one attempt this with 
Gray's poetry, and he will find that he does not even ap- 
proach the beauty of the original. Like the single window 
in Aladdin's palace, which the Grand Vizier undertook to 
finish with diamonds equal to the rest, but found, after a 
long trial, that he was not rich enough to furnish the jewels, 
nor ingenious enough to dispose them ; so there are lines 
in Gray, which critics and poets might labor for ever to sup- 
ply, and without success. This wonderful richness of ex- 
pression has perhaps injured his fame. For sometimes a 
single word, by giving rise in the mind of the reader to a 
succession of images, so preoccupies it as to obscure the 
lustre of the succeeding epithets. The mind is fatigued 
and retarded by the crowd of beauties, soliciting the atten- 
tion at the same moment to different graces of thought and 
expression." 

Dr. Gardiner, in his reply, again maintains, — 

" That he knows of no sublime passage in Homer, Vir- 
gil, or Milton, but what is perfectly intelligible ; and scarce- 
ly a description which would not make a good picture. In- 
deed, I lay it down as a general maxim, that whatever im- 
agery a good painter cannot execute on the canvas must 
necessarily be incorrect. If there be any exception to this 
rule, it can only be where images are presented to the 
mind which are not subjects of the eye, as the rattling of 
the quiver on the shoulders of Apollo on his march to avenge 
his insulted priest. 

" In his ' Ode for Music,' (an odd title, by the way,) 
Gray has these lines : — 



LITERARY CONTROVERSY. 231 

1 And thus they speak in soft accord 
The liquid language of the skies.' 

" Now I should be happy if you would inform me in 
what consists ' the astonishing force and beauty of this 
epithet.' If Gray had written ' the language of the liquid 
skies,' we might have supposed he meant thunder in rainy 
weather. But I presume the beauty of this epithet arises 
from that inimitable obscurity which is the great source of 
Gray's sublimity 

" The ode on Summer, published in the last Sylva, is supe- 
rior to Gray's on the Spring, and, without borrowing a single 
thought or expression from him, exhibits all his peculiari- 
ties : his quaintness of epithets, his affected alliterations, 
and the general glitter and tinsel of his style." 

Dr. Gardiner closes thus : — " Sincerely wishing that 
you will in future employ your acknowledged talents 
as a writer more usefully than in the defence of ab- 
surdity." 

Buckminster answers with a further vindication of 
Gray, and closes thus : — u I beg leave to reciprocate 
your benevolent wish, with a little variation ; that, in- 
stead of employing your c acknowledged talents ' as a 
poet in burlesque imitations of Gray, you would have 
the goodness to give us an ode equal to the ' Bard.' " 

It would perhaps be hardly worth while to call the 
history of this gentle controversy from the oblivion of 
the pages of the Anthology, were it not to introduce 
an anecdote recollected and imparted by the Hon. 
James Savage, a member of the club. " Contro- 
versy," he says, u sprang up in the club on the literary 
nature of Gray's odes, and the war began with a bur- 
lesque ode to Winter, by our president, Rev. J. S. J. 
Gardiner, who followed it up with one on Summer, 



232 



RETROSPECTIVE REVIEW 



also in the Anthology. In the same No., Buckmin- 
ster gave a forcible defence of the imagery and epi- 
thets of the poet, which, the next month, was replied to 
by the assailant, and, in the following No., was strength- 
ened by the other side ; and this also was counter- 
worked by another parody of the lyric inspiration, in 
which Gray's great odes were caricatured. A fourth 
attempt at the ludicrous, by our president, contained 
something unguardedly personal from the satirist to his 
antagonist, which produced strong though silent emo- 
tions of sympathy in many of the party. In an instant, 
the writer threw the inconsiderate effusion into the fire. 
This," says Mr. Savage, " as a striking instance of the 
powerful influence of the gentleness of Mr. Buckmin- 
ster, and of the profound regard felt for him by a critic 
of opposite sentiments in a protracted controversy, has 
dwelt forty years in my memory ; yet the kindly natured 
polemics had, 'I dare say, in half as many weeks, utterly 
forgotten it. From that moment, no allusion was made 
in the club to Gray's merits." 

Another object, the design of which originated in the 
club, and was most earnestly* urged by my brother, 
was to rescue from oblivion, and review in the Anthology, 
the American books that had been printed since the 
settlement of the country. In the introduction to this 
department of the Anthology, called " Retrospective 
Notices of American Literature," written by himself, 
he says : — 

" We propose to commence a review of books in Ameri- 
can literature, which have either been forgotten, or have 
not hitherto received the attention which they deserve. In- 



OF AMERICAN BOOKS. 233 

terested as we are in every thing that relates to the honor of 
our country, we are not ashamed to express our conviction 
that one reason of the low estimate in which our literature 
is held among ourselves, as well as in Europe, is, that there 
has been no regular survey of this field of letters. It is 
supposed to be utterly barren, because it is so wide and 
desolate, and because there has never been a map of the 
region. But as in the highest parts of a mountainous coun- 
try, which appear at a distance to be covered with eternal 
snows, you will discover in crevices and little spots some 
humble and modest plants, which sufficiently reward the 
toilsome ascent of an enthusiastic botanist ; so, in the exten- 
sive if not copious records of American learning, we hope 
to detect a few rare and undescribed specimens, which 
may, by this means, awaken at least the regard of some 
future historian of literature. It is unfortunately true, that, 
while every country in modern Europe has produced copi- 
ous annals of its literature, or maintained regular journals 
of its new works, this country has, till within a few years, 
had nothing of the kind." 

After saying that the design would not embrace works 
in theology, he remarks : — 

" It would be an endless task to review even the works 
of tolerable merit in this class, which have issued from the 
presses of New England alone. Here we are proud to 
mention the works of Jonathan Edwards, a man whose 
powers of mind need not have bowed before the genius 
of Locke or of Hartley, and whose theological research, 
in a remote part of an unlettered country, would have been 
considered honorable to any divine, surrounded with learned 
libraries, and aided by the constant intercourse of men of 
erudition. But we decline to enter this field of literary his- 
tory, because it is perhaps not only the best known, but 
20* 



231 RETROSPECTIVE REVIEW. 

would also be less generally interesting. Neither shall we 
trespass upon the ground of that respectable and industri- 
ous society, which has already published several volumes of 
historical recollections 

" Nothing seems at present to be in the way of our 
gradually taking rank in the scale of literary nations but 
our avarice ; and the extraordinary opportunities we have 
had of making money, as it is called, are at least some 
apology for our immoderate love of gain 

" We can never in this country possess many of the luxu- 
ries of the fine arts which older countries enjoy ; but we 
may learn to love the more refined and loftier elegances of 
literature and taste. These can never be entirely debased 
by sensuality ; they never can be completely pressed into 
the cause of corruption. God grant that our expectations 
may not be disappointed, for we think we can discern the 
dawn of better days. ' Novus saculorum nascitur ordo? " 

He proceeded to redeem the engagement by the re- 
view of " Logan's Translation of Cato Major, a quarto 
volume printed by Dr. Franklin in Philadelphia, in 
1744." It was the first and the best translation of an 
ancient classic which had appeared in this country. The 
translator was Mr. Logan of Philadelphia, and the work 
of translating was begun in his sixtieth year. 

The review of Cato Major was carried through three 
numbers of the Anthology. The articles that were fur- 
nished by Mr. Buckminster, after this, were generally of 
a theological character, ending with a review of Gries- 
bach's New Testament in the tenth and last volume of 
the Anthology. 

An historical and more permanent interest attaches to 
the Anthology Club from the fact that the first idea was 
started, and the first design planned, of the Boston A the- 



ORIGIN OF THE BOSTON ATHENJEUM. 235 

naeum, in one of these evening meetings. To William 
S. Shaw, who, although not a frequent writer, was an 
active member of the club, belongs the honor of first 
proposing the Athenaeum. Upon another page will be 
found some curious details of the responsibility assumed 
by him, and the informality with which the business was 
at first conducted.* 

In connection with the Anthology, and to show Mr. 
Buckminster's warm interest in this publication, part of a 
letter to Mr. Shaw, written from England, is introduced 
in this place. 

" I cannot say that I am entirely pleased with some of the 
last numbers of the Anthology. I fear that, in composing 
the Sylva, too much attention is paid to showing specimens 
of fine writing and sentimental beauties, rather than to mak- 
ing it curious for literary memoranda. I feel, too, on this 
side of the water, those defects which are almost inherent 
in the work, and which will keep it, I fear, from being inter- 
esting in Europe. These are, first, that we are amazingly 
destitute of any thing like scientific information and curious 
research. Secondly, the books we are called to review are 
very trifling, and have nothing to attract readers in Europe. 
Besides, I think we waste too much of our time upon fugi- 
tive pamphlets, and give them a page, when many of them 
should be despatched in a line. Lastly, we have too many 
heavy dissertations, theme-like communications, which no 
one reads, even among us, but the writer ; and even if our 
criticisms and disquisitions were to possess as much taste as 
we sometimes fancy they do, yet they can hardly boast of 
originality, — the only thing which will attract readers here. 
They will not look, here, into an American publication, which 

* See the correspondence of Shaw and Buckminster, Chapter 
XVIII. 



236 THE ANTHOLOGY. 

gives them nothing but the drippings of their own. These 
circumstances do not in the least diminish my zeal for sup- 
porting our Anthology with all our might, but they induce 
me to despair of seeing it aTvaken the attention and circu- 
late among the readers of Europe. However, nil desperan- 
dum ; — I was going to add the rest of the quotation, but 
alas ! our dear Walter is dead, — the life and animating soul 

of the club ! 

" Give my love to all the Anthologists, even the new 
ones. I am delighted with Kirkland's address of the editors, 
in the new volume. Be careful, I beseech you, about ad- 
mitting new members. I am very much afraid, that, dur- 
ing my absence, you will metamorphose it from a club of 
friends into a club of editors. But not a word of this. En 
passant, I am sorry to see the articles of literary intelli- 
gence so scanty. Has the former collector relaxed his in- 
dustry, or given up the task ? or, rather, has the death of 
our dear Walter paralyzed, for the moment, his activity ? 
Once more ; I am mortified, whenever I think that no re- 
view of Marshall's Life of Washington has *yet appeared 
in the Anthology. Would it not be well for the editors to 
make a polite request to Dr. Holmes, who deserves the hon- 
orable name of the American annalist, that he would under- 
take to give us a careful and adequate review of this great 
national work ? I know of no man better qualified. It is 
time to wipe away several disgraceful omissions of this sort. 
Webster's Dictionary has never been reviewed. Lathrop's 
Sermons ! — pray, what are our theological auxiliaries about ? 
I see no traces of their hands." 

To the above inadequate account of the Anthology is 
only added, that many of the Sylvas of that publication, 
which were always anonymous, were furnished by my 
brother, particularly after his return from Europe, con- 
sisting of literary information, collected there, which 



JOURNAL OF STUDIES. 237 

was too trifling or insufficient to weave into a graver 
article. 

It may seem astonishing to some minds, that, occu- 
pied as he was with the parochial duties of a large so- 
ciety, he could find time and inclination to devote to a 
publication like the Anthology. But, as has been ob- 
served in another page of this memoir, he was a student, 
in the truest meaning of the word. He loved study for 
itself, and devoted himself cheerfully to the self-denial 
which a life of study demands ; and, in his favorite pur- 
suits, he met with little or no sympathy from others to 
animate his solitary labors beneath the midnight lamp. 
It was, therefore, the greatest delight, and the most 
agreeable relaxation, to him, to meet with friends and 
associates in those lighter pursuits where the Muses and 
the Graces mingled, in the pages of the Anthology. 

To afford some idea of the rapid intellectual survey 
by which he compassed his studies, the journal of his 
reading for rather more than a year is given. It com- 
prises the reading of the year preceding his ordination.* 

" I am induced, by the example of Gibbon and others, to 
commence a diary, which shall contain a brief record of the 
progress of my studies, and of the distribution of my time. 
I begin upon a day which finds me in the midst of the pe- 
rusal of more than four books. Let the confession of an 
error upon this point be the first step towards amendment. 
My morning's occupation is the perusal of Benson on the 
Epistles. The translation of DalzePs Collectanea Grseca 
occupies my spare moments. 

* This journal of studies belongs to the years 1804 - 5. It was the 
first intention of the writer to introduce it in an appendix. But it hav- 
ing been thought best to give it a place in the work, it was too late to 
insert it in the preceding chapter. 



233 



JOURNAL OF STUDIES. 



" December IS//*, 1S03. Began the first volume of Bar- 
row's Works, folio. Read his Life, by Abraham Hill. Bar- 
ren of interest, and written with great affectation of humil- 
ity. Read the first sermon on the Pleasantness of Religion. 
He is very fond of using epithets. There is scarcely a sub- 
stantive without two or more adjectives. 

41 December 22d. Finished Benson's Essay upon the 
Abolition of the Ceremonial Law, pp. 106. His obscu- 
rity, or rather his perplexity, upon some points, arises from 
the paucity of his materials. He divides the Jewish law 
into moral, political, and ceremonial ; the first always bind- 
ing on all Christians, as part of the law of nature and of 
Christianity, where it is incorporated and improved. The 
second is obligatory upon the Jews, during the existence of 
their civil polity, and its force is not impaired by their em- 
bracing Christianity. This makes no change in the civil re- 
lations of men. This law also binds the proselytes when 
inhabitants of the Jewish territory. The ceremonial law 
is not binding upon Jews, Gentiles, or Christians. Paul's 
doctrine upon this point may be stated in -the following 
method : — 

;; 1. The Gentile Christians he openly declared unfettered 
by it, and such was his care upon this point, that most of his 
epistles are filled with censures on the conduct of the Jews 
and Judaizing Christians who would induce the converted 
Gentiles to submit to its injunctions. 2. The devout Gen- 
tiles who had been converted to Christianity, of whom Cor- 
nelius and his family were the first fruits, were exhorted, 
by the council of apostles at Jerusalem, to observe the in- 
junctions mentioned in the decree, Acts xv. To this they 
were subject by the Jewish code. 3. But neither these nor 
the Jews were really bound by the ceremonial law after the 
death of Christ, although Paul and Barnabas, to whom alone 
this was revealed, were cautious of publishing its abolition, 
in order to avoid shocking the prejudices of bigoted Jews. 



JOURNAL OF STUDIES. 239 

" Subject for a sermon, to illustrate the character of Paul 
from this subject. 

" Read Gibbon's Miscellaneous Works, 2 vols., pp. 300. 
Wharton's Life of Pope. It contains little more information 
than Johnson's, and is written with great slovenliness of 
manner. 

" December 23d. Reviewed Benson's Essay. Continued 
Gibbon. In reading, his method was to follow the suit of 
his ideas, rather than that of his books. This demanded an 
inexhaustible library. The principal source of his erudition 
seems to have been the Memoirs of the Academy of Belles 
Lettres, a book not to be procured here. One reason of 
our having so few learned men is, the want of books. 

" December 21th. Read Benson's Two Essays upon 
the Government of the Primitive Church and their Public 
Worship. The following are some of his conclusions : — 
That the apostles, at their first planting of any church, did 
not ordain any officers, but left it to the direction of some of 
the first converts, called elders. That this title, so often men- 
tioned in the New Testament, signified no regular officer. 
Their regular officers were usually ordained at the second 
visit of the apostles. The expression ' ordaining elders ' is 
interpreted by Benson to mean, ordaining elders to be bish- 
ops and deacons. These, after they were ordained, were 
sometimes spoken of under the names of elders and priests, 
till at length the name of ' bishop ' was appropriated to the 
presiding bishop, to distinguish him from the other bishops, 
who were, in the second century, presbyters or elders. Ig- 
natius is the strongest authority on the episcopal side ; but 
he does not intimate that his bishop was a diocesan bishop, 
but only a parochial bishop. 

" January 1st, 1804. Began Belsham's Elements of the 
Philosophy of the Human Mind. It is ridiculously exact 
and copious on the subject of syllogisms. In every other 
part of logic, his compendium is useful and his definitions 



240 JOURNAL OF STUDIES. 

accurate. Read, same day, Barrow's Sermons on the Duty 
of Prayer, — sixth and seventh sermons, pp. 48-63. 

" January 2d. Read forty-four pages in Benson's sec- 
ond volume. Mr. Tracy's Speech in the Senate, on the 
passage of the Amendment of the Constitution as respects 
the choice of President. He shows, that, in the Constitution, 
there are several marks of concession and compromise be- 
tween the large and small States. That the Senate is a 
body chosen and constituted on the federative principle of 
State equality, which was the principle of the old Confeder- 
ation. That the House of Representatives is elected on the 
popular principle of a majority of members, and, of course, 
the larger States, who send the greater number of represen- 
tatives, will always rule here. He shows, that, in the old 
mode of choosing President, by voting for two persons, it 
was intended that there should be a chance of no electoral 
choice, which would throw the ultimate decision into . the 
hands of the House of Representatives, voting by States. In 
such an event, the small States would recover that influence 
which they would not have enjoyed in the popular manner, 
because their proportion of electors would be very small. 
But the present amendment goes to secure a choice by the 
electors in the first instance. Of course, the great States 
will always have it in their power to give a President to the 
Union, and the federative principle is destroyed. The Con- 
stitution requires two thirds of the House to concur in an 
amendment. Tracy and Plumer, New Hampshire, con- 
tended that this mean two thirds of the whole House, and 
not of the members present. 

" January 6th. Finished Belsham. A most masterly- 
compendium and recapitulation of the argument of neces- 
sity, and a fair statement of the libertarian objections. The 
definition of philosophical liberty, given by Gregory, is 
worthy of remark. Read, in the Monthly, review of Dod- 
son's Isaiah, and Sturgis's reply. 



JOURNAL OF STUDIES. 241 

" January Sth. Read 3d No. of Edinburgh Review. 
Gentz Etat de VEurope, a most masterly work. Shep- 
herd's Poggia Bracciolina. The reviewer here intimates 
an opinion that the praises which have been bestowed upon 
Roscoe's work are above its merits. When I formerly gave 
such an opinion, it was reprobated without mercy. Hay- 
ley's Life of Cowper. It is curious to observe the different 
decisions of these Scotch reviewers and the Monthly, in 
their character of Hayley's style. The Scotch say, ' The 
little Mr. Hayley writes in these volumes is by no means 
well written.' The Monthly says, ' A work which, on the 
whole, is very well written.' In my humble opinion, Hay- 
ley's style is redundant, sometimes inflated, often slovenly. 
The decisions of these reviewers are delivered with the 
most dogmatical air, and with all the contemptuousness of 
youthful criticism. 

" January 9th. Read, before breakfast, Price's Sermon 
on the Security of a Virtuous Course, and Barrow's on the 
same text, Prov. x. 9. Their arrangement is dissimilar. 
How much more pleasant is the style of Price, but at the 
distance of more than a century ! In the evening, read 
Priestley's Sermons on the Duty of not living to Our- 
selves and on the Danger of Bad Habits. They are both 
admirable. Read Pope's Pastorals in Wharton's edition. 
Wharton seems to write notes merely for the sake of find- 
ing fault with his author. He prefers the Pastorals of The- 
ocritus to Virgil's, and says there is only one false rhyme 
in Pope's first Pastoral ! 

" January 10th. Read Michaelis on the Epistle of Peter, 
to compare him with Benson. They agree in opinion as to 
the two most important difficulties in this epistle, namely, to 
whom it was addressed and where it was written. Read, al- 
so, Lardner's Letter on the Logos and First Postscript. This 
letter was written in 1730, when the Arian controversy 
was at its height, and is a remarkable instance of private 
21 



242 JOURNAL OF STUDIES. 

investigation and unbiased belief. It lay unpublished in 
the author's cabinet nineteen years. 

"January Wth. Read Lardner's Second Postscript, 
pp. 205. Read a review of a Dissertation, published by 
Teylor's ' Theological Society.' It proposes, as the bond of 
union of all Christians, ' the belief of the Divine authority 
of the doctrines of Jesus.' This is the only common prin- 
ciple of union. 

" January 14^/t. Read Benson. His Dissertation on 
1st of Peter, iii. 17, is more ingenious and probable than 
the other opinions which he enumerates, but even this must 
yield to the interpretation of Wakefield. 

" Read again the review of Stewart's account of Robert- 
son in the Edinburgh Review. There is an affectation of 
refinement in this critique which sometimes disgusts the 
reader. 

" January 20th. Benson and Michaelis." 

He goes on until February 6th, reading Benson and 
Michaelis. The remarks are omitted. 

" February 1th. Farmer on Demoniacs. 8th, finished 
Farmer. To me, he is learned, ingenious, temperate. It 
must have been very difficult for the antagonists of the 
overbearing Warburton to keep their temper. 

" February 9th. Read Symonds on the Expediency 
of Revising the English Version of the Four Gospels. 
N. B.. — Wakefield has corrected, in his translation, every 
error mentioned by Symonds." 

From this time till the first of April, he was occupied 
with Priestley's History of the Corruptions of Chris- 
tianity, the Monthly Review, and Horsely's Charges 
against Priestley. He appears to have studied the con- 
troversy very thoroughly, and to have given the Trini- 



JOURNAL OF STUDIES. 243 

tarian hypothesis a complete investigation. His re- 
marks upon it fill ten very closely written pages in 
his commonplace book. 

" April 1st and 2d. Read Fuller's Calvinism and Socin- 
ianism Compared. It is an ingenious piece of argument, and 
plausible in its principle. His arguments, however, are in 
some measure drawn from inconsiderate expressions of So- 
cinian writers. Vid. Belsham's Answer to Wilberforce. But 
it may be asked if the influence of Calvinistic doctrines should 
be allowed to be as great as it has been represented. Is 
not this influence rather an operation upon the passions 
than on the understanding ? Is not the tendency of Calvin- 
ism that of substituting religious affections for virtuous ac- 
tions ? Does not the whole scope of Fuller's reasoning go 
to prove that there can be no good men except Calvinists ? 

" Head Farmer's Inquiry into the Temptation of Christ. 
I read a sermon of Massillon's in French every night, be- 
fore going to bed. One or two chapters in the Greek Testa- 
ment in the morning. 

" The only difficulty in Farmer's scheme of the Tempta- 
tion is to account for Christ's being tempted with what he 
knew to be a mere vision. 

" April 10th. Read Urquhart's Commentaries on Clas- 
sical Learning. Light, graceful, entertaining. A pleasant 
lady's book ! 

" April 26th. Third volume of Priestley's History of 
the Christian Church. It is evenings' work. Cursory. Un- 
worthy of Priestley. 

" April 21th, 28/.A, 29th. Bishop of London's Lectures 
on the Gospel of St. Matthew. It is impossible to commend 
this work too highly. It is plain, popular, convincing ; pure 
and even elegant in language; eloquent in its appeals to 
the understanding and to the heart. It should belong to 
the family of every Christian. 



2U 



JOURNAL OF STUDIES. 



M May 1st. Read Farmer on the Worship of Human 
Spirits. 

" May 1th Michaelis on the Introduction to the Epistle 
to the Hebrews. Read carefully the Epistle to the Hebrews 
in Wakefield's translation, comparing it with our own and 
with the original. 

" In the course of the last week, read Bishop Hoadley 
on the Sacrament. 

" May 16th, 11th, 18th, 19th. Read Hopton Hayne's 
Scripture Account, pp. 336, 8vo. 

"May 22d, 23d, 24th. Heron's Junius. American 
edition. 2 vols. 8vo. 

"Mag 26th, 21th. Taylor's Scripture Doctrine of Orig- 
inal Sin, with Supplement, pp. 500. 

"May 2Sth. Read Bishop Law's Life and Character 
of Christ, pp. 142. 

" At my father's request, read, for the second time, Ed- 
wards on Original Sin. 

" July 3d. Began Jamieson's Vindication, pp. 567. 
[Here follow some pages of remarks.] Jamfeson's Proofs 
from Scripture contain little new. 

" July 10th. Finished Paley's Natural Philosophy. 

" July ISM. Read Fellows's Picture of Christian Phi- 
losophy. 

"August 1st. Read Marsh's Dissertation for the second 
time. 

" August 10th. A Series of Plays on the Passions, by 
Miss Baillie. 

"August loth to 20th. Dugald Stewart's Elements of 
the Philosophy of the Human Mind. This is the work of 
a truly original thinker. The chapters on Association, 
Memory, and Imagination, may be repeatedly perused with 
new pleasure and increasing profit. The most bigoted dog- 
matist cannot be offended. Except a ne^v theory of con- 
ception, I find no innovation upon Reid's theory. 



JOURNAL OF STUDIES. 245 

" August 27th. Began to read Archbishop Wake's Apos- 
tolic Fathers. The only pieces in this collection whose 
authority is undoubted are Clement's First Epistle to the 
Corinthians and Polycarp's Second to Philippians. [Here 
follow several pages of remarks upon these epistles, with 
Greek quotations.] 

" October. Read Priestley's Controversy with Rev. Dr. 
Linn, [of Philadelphia.] Has not Linn the decided supe- 
riority in the argument? 

" November. Wakefield's Inquiry, &c, pp. 35. [Here 
follow remarks which are omitted.] Read Bell on the Sac- 
rament, pp. 204. Supplement, pp. 47. 

" From Dibdin's Introduction to a Knowledge of Editions 
of the Classics, made out a list of classical authors to be 
procured." 

Here intervenes an illness of some weeks, during 
which he writes, " I have indulged myself in various 
and desultory reading, during the horoz subsecivce of 
convalescence." 

" Read Benson on Unity of Sense ; compared him with 
Michaelis on Quotations from the Old Testament. [Here 
follow remarks which are omitted.] 

" January, 1805. Read Toulmin's Life of Faustus Socin- 
ius, pp. 471, 8vo. It is one of the most hasty and meagre 
compilations I ever read. The facts in the Life of Socinius 
are few, and the volume is swelled with long extracts from 
his works. He was an Italian, born in Sienna, 1539. It 
is probable that the sentiments of his uncle Loelius had 
more influence on the mind of Faustus, in forming his opin- 
ions, than Toulmin is willing to admit. It appears that 
Faustus paid no attention to theological inquiries till he 
had attained the age of thirty years, so that, for his opin- 
ions, we must probably look to his uncle. Neither can we 
21* 



246 JOURNAL OF STUDIES. 

discover that his mind passed through any of those suc- 
cessive revolutions of opinion, which have marked, and 
must mark, the intellectual history of eminent men. He 
does not appear to have digested his peculiar creed with 
any great method or accuracy, and his sentiments are 
frequently inconsistent, and sometimes obscure. 

" Disney's Life of Jortin is still more meagre and unin- 
teresting. 

" Teignmouth's Life of Sir William Jones. Lord Teign- 
mouth insinuates that Sir William believed the Divinity of 
Jesus Christ according to the articles of the Church of Eng- 
land, of which nothing he has quoted affords conclusive evi- 
dence ; and also the common doctrine of atonement, of 
which there is not one word in all Sir William ever wrote. 
But he grounds his assertion on this clause in one of his 
prayers, — 'the mercy of God through Jesus Christ.' 

" Read Rotherham on Faith. I am exceedingly dis- 
appointed in this essay. It was written to counteract the 
enthusiasm of the Methodists. It is a good antidote against 
Antinomianism, but removes few of the difficulties respect- 
ing the meaning of the word faith. I have learned, by 
repeated disappointments, not to form too high expectations 
of a work which I have heard often commended and seen 
often quoted. 

"Read Sallust's Catiline and Jugurtha in Hunter's edi- 
tion. I have lately read Xenophon again. Also Gilbert 
Wakefield's Life. 

" Read Locke's Vindication of the Reasonableness of 
Christianity; and his Conduct of the Understanding, and 
Letters to Molineux.- Mr. Locke often seems anxious to ex- 
press to some friend, in person, the result of his inquiries. 
O that his conferences with Molineux, when he came to 
England, could have been recorded ! Should we not have 
learned more of the doctrine of association and of nice 
points in theology ? 



JOURNAL OF STUDIES. 247 

" June. Finished Lowth on Sacred Poetry, comparing 
with Michaelis. 

" September. President Nott preached in Brattle Street. 
The fullest audience ever known there except on ordination 
day. Epigram made on him by Josiah Quincy : — 

' Delight and instruction have people, I wot, 
Who in seeing, not see, and in hearing, hear not.' 

" Burnet, De Fide et Officiis. Pleasant and catholic. It 
might be of use if translated into English. 

" Read Le Clerc's Ars Critica. What a wonderful 
man was Le Clerc ! Learned, to an extent almost un- 
equalled by any who have succeeded him ; liberal, per- 
haps' to a fault ; perspicuous and pleasant in his critical 
works ; the worthy successor of Grotius ; the contem- 
porary of Bayle ; and the model of the Jortins and Lovvths 
and Warburtons, who have since admired and imitated him. 
What might not have been expected from him, had he en- 
joyed the light thrown upon criticism and theology since 
his death ! Read, also, Le Clerc's five Letters on Inspiration, 
pp. 237. 

" Read G. Sharp's book on the Greek Article. His first 
rule, which is the only important one, is, that when two 
nouns of personal description follow one another, the first 
of which has the article, and the second not, and they are 
connected with a copulative, they both refer to the same 
subject. The most important passage, which would be 
affected by this rule, is in Titus ii. 13, which he would 
render, ' appearance of Jesus Christ, the great God and 
Saviour.' But the exceptions are so numerous that the 
rule is almost useless, and thus instances contradicting it 
are found without difficulty. Gregory Blunt' s Six Letters 
are hardly a satisfactory reply, because he argues rather 
from the nature of the thing than from a critical inquiry 
into the 'use of the Greek article. Wistanley's vindication 



248 PROPOSAL OF A VOYAGE. 

of our common version in the texts in question, is, to my 
mind, decisive, though he is exceedingly biased in some of 
his remarks by his Arian system. 

" October 1st. Morgan's Collection of Tracts, occasioned 
by the Trinitarian Controversy. London, 1726. Read 
Maury's Eloge de St. Angus tin et de Fenelon. What can 
exceed the onction of the latter saint-like man and writer ? 
The life of Augustin is a true extravaganza." 

During the whole time of this journal, he was study- 
ing Hebrew and translating Greek, beside writing his 
earliest sermons. 

Actively engaged as my brother had been in the year 
since his settlement, his health had by no means im- 
proved. The attacks of his malady had so far increased, 
that, as appears from a record which he kept among his 
private papers, they had been nearly double the number of 
the preceding year. In the spring of 1806, his intimate 
friends, among whom was an eminent physician, the 
elder Dr. Warren, advised relaxation, a total suspension 
of study, and a voyage to Europe. In his letter to his 
parish, requesting leave of absence, he says, " It would 
be superfluous for me to dwell upon the painful senti- 
ments with which I suggest the idea of this temporary 
separation, for our mutual attachment to each other is 
too great to need any assurance of this kind." 

The proposal, as did every thing which had a near or 
remote tendency to improve his health and alleviate his 
cares, met with the prompt and generous acquiescence 
of the Brattle Street society. 

His father consented with reluctance to this sepa- 
ration. In his letter, in answer to the one informing 
him of the generous acquiescence of the parish, he says, 
"I shall deeply regret that you should be* so long 



CORRESPONDENCE. 249 

absent, — perhaps, to me, for ever absent, — but my 
principle has always been to sacrifice my wishes to the 
interests of my children." His father was at this time 
suffering from deep depression, augmented by many 
causes besides the recent death of his second wife. 
At the times of his depression, he was always discour- 
aged respecting the state of religion in his parish, the 
little good that he had been able to effect, and a general 
fear of unfaithfulness. At this time, he wrote to his son 
in this desponding strain : — 

" My daughters are amiable ; they strive to make my 
desolate home cheerful to me ; they try to surround their 
broken-hearted father with many comforts, that he may for- 
get his inestimable loss ; but I have no evidence that they 
are the subjects of grace, or that they belong to the new 
covenant." 

In conformity with Dr. Buckminster's theory of re- 
ligion, he could not regard his children with entire ap- 
probation, because Calvinism makes no appeal to the 
sentiment of duty ; — nature and grace are opposed. 
That which he could approve was not any amiable dis- 
position, strengthened by effort, but something superin- 
duced ; he must have regarded them, therefore, rather 
with tenderness and pity than with respectful approbation. 

It cannot be denied, also, that one cause of the 
father's depression was his disappointment in his son's 
views of religion, and the general prevalence of liberal 
interpretations of Christianity. This, in him, was not 
the result of bigotry. To him, a sincere Calvinist, 
his own interpretation of the meaning of Christ and 
the apostles was vital to the peace of his heart. It 
was the life's breath of his religion, the aliment of his 



250 LETTER OF DR. BUCKMINSTER. 

devotion, the only sure support of bis hopes of the fu- 
ture bliss of heaven. Pie could not but acknowledge 
that his son's life was exemplary ; that his preaching had 
not only been admired, but attended with eminent suc- 
cess ; that his example had been alluring to the young to 
induce them to lead a religious life ; and yet he felt that 
the foundation of all this was false and insecure. 

When the voyage was finally determined upon, he 
wrote to his son in a more encouraging and cheerful 
strain. 

" May 6, 1806. 

" My dear Son, — I have hoped that I should be able 
to see you again before you sailed ; and when Mr. Lowell 
came in last evening, the hope brightened again ; but I have 
so much of a cold, in consequence of exposures, by which 
my habitual cough is much increased, that I am persuaded 
it is imprudent to think of going again to Boston, even 
though so many disappointments are the consequence of my 
remaining at home. 

" Your voyage is fixed and determined upon, and, as far 
as I can judge, upon those principles and with those views 
by which we must be governed in the present state. You 
may, therefore, I conceive, consider it a matter of duty, and 
have nothing else to do but to undertake it with firmness 
and religious confidence, and pursue it with a constant reli- 
ance upon Divine Providence for support, protection, and re- 
straint. And we, who are left bereaved, have nothing to do 
but to acquiesce, to follow you with our best wishes and 
prayers, and to look and long for the time of your return. 
You will be in new situations, and new scenes will be 
continually opening to your view ; I hope you will en- 
deavour to be always self-possessed, and under the com- 
manding influence of reason and religion, and let neither 
your fears nor your joys transport you. You have proba- 



LETTER OF DR. BUCOT1NSTER. 251 

bly often heard me mention a resolution of your own dear 
mother's, early formed, and steadily adhered to, ' never to let 
her passions so far get the ascendency as to disqualify her 
for acting, or hurry her to resolutions or conduct which her 
reason and her conscience would not afterwards approve.' 

" If you should be tolerably well on shipboard, and have 
pleasant weather, I hope you will find yourself disposed to 
serve, and your shipmates desirous and willing to regard you, 
as the regular chaplain to the ship ; and while the master is 
taking his observation of the material heavens, the minister 
on board will be daily endeavouring to help him, and all 
others, to take observation of the heavens that are higher 
than they ; and that your track through the ocean, instead of 
being marked with profanity, will be distinguished from 
others by prayer and praises to God. If you should meet 
with storms and tempests, you will remember who holdeth 
the winds in his fists, and who is able to say, ' Peace, be 
still.' Let not the admonition, that was once addressed to a 
sleeping prophet, be ever addressed to you. 

" When you get to the lands of science, of wealth, and 
of wonderful improvement in the arts, and see great men, 
and witness great events, I hope you will not forget that the 
most wonderful character that was ever on the earth is the 
Lord Jesus Christ, and that the knowledge of him is true 
science, and love and obedience to him true wisdom, and 
that if any man would become truly wise, he must become 
a fool in the estimation of the men of the world. 

" To say that I am not anxious about you, my son, would 
be to belie the father and his feelings ; but I am able, in all 
humility, to commit you to that God to whom I early gave 
you, who has always watched over you, and who, I trust, 
will still keep you. To him may you yet be made a faith- 
ful son and servant. The last prayer of a father is, may 
the voyage establish your health, improve your mind, in- 
crease your piety, perfect you in the love of God, and in 



252 DEPARTURE FOR EUROPK. 

due time restore you to your friends and duties, injhe ful- 
ness of the blessing of the Gospel of Christ. 

" Your affectionate father." 

" May 6th, 1806. 
" Mr deak Father, — The time approaches when I must 
bid adieu to much that I fervently love. It is one of the 
severest trials that I ever experienced, and that was not a 
small part of it which I endured at Portsmouth. I am 
sometimes tempted to hope that you will not come up be- 
fore I go." 

A few days after : — 

" Tuesday morning. By God's help I have gone through 
the most painful circumstances attending my departure, that 
is, the exercises on the Sabbath. I preached all day, and 
was very much disappointed that Mr. Lowell did not return. 

" I am waiting with anxiety, expecting every moment a 
summons to go on board ; but if the wind gets round to the 
eastward, I shall have another day of pain in taking leave. 
Indeed, my dear sir, all the trials of my life* have borne no 
kind of proportion to the anguish of this departure, for I 
have been overwhelmed with kindness and affection. A 
whole life of devotion can hardly repay it. 

" I am afraid I shall not be able to hear how your cold is. 
Your letter did not alarm me much, though, upon reflection, 
I have been afraid that your cough is more serious. The 
Sally will sail in ten days for Liverpool, when you must 
not fail to write me particularly. My love to my dear sis- 
ters. God in his mercy for ever bless them ! They shall 
have a line by the return of the pilot-boat. 

" Your dear son." 

During my brother's absence, his salary was continued, 
and he bore the expense of supplying the pulpit. Un- 
der this liberal arrangement, a committee was appointed 



DR. BUCKMINSTER TO HIS SON. 253 

to engage the preachers, and his father went five times 
to Boston to preach for his son. It was so arranged 
that he usually administered the communion. At such 
times, he visited those of the parish who were ill, or 
who desired ministerial visits. To show that his letters 
were not always filled with serious admonitions, one is 
here introduced, written when he visited Boston the first 
time after his son's absence : — 

« Boston, June 2, 1806. 
" My dear Son, — Among the flood of letters which you 
will receive by the hand of Mr. Thacher, and the happiness 
you will experience in unexpectedly finding him so soon 
after you, it will be gratifying to you to have a line from 
your father, who, more than any man living, naturally cares 
for your state, and whose comfort and earthly happiness 
depend more naturally upon you than upon any other. I 
intended to have written to you by the Sally, but the vessel 
sailed before my return from Northampton, where I spent 
the last Sabbath with my old college friend and companion, 
Mr. Williams, whom I found exceedingly full of ministerial 
duty, there being a very great attention to religion among his 
young people. I returned to Boston the morning of election- 
day, and entered into the hubbub and excitement of election 
and convention. Mr. Shepherd, the preacher on election- 
day, is a man of talents and of piety ; but it was so late be- 
fore the jangling and wrangling court* could get prepared 
to go to the meeting-house, that many of the audience thought 
his sermon too long. Dr. Lyman, of Hatfield, preached the 
convention sermon in your desk, and delivered a concio ad 
cleram with his usual independence, animation, and zeal ; 
and, though it contained some sentiments a little different 



* This was after a bitterly contested election between Gov. Strong 
and Gov. Sullivan. 

22 



254 DR. BUCKMINSTER TO HIS SON. 

from those which have lately been heard there, I think they 
are not different from what may yet be there heard again 

" Sabbath evening. I have been all this day in your pul- 
pit, attempting to preach to your people. Having left my 
gown at home, Deacon Thacher furnished me with his 
father's ; but alas ! it did not make me the popular and be- 
loved preacher that he was. Some old ladies looked very 
hard at the gown, but heard not the voice ' so wonderfully 
sweet.' I introduced into the church those persons who 
were propounded before you went, and propounded two 
others. The two Governors, Strong and Sullivan, were at 
the communion-table. I could not but think how they felt 
towards each other. I dined at Deacon Storer's, in company 

with , and preached this afternoon upon the wisdom 

and goodness of Providence in all its dispensations. 

" I hope, my dear son, you will take due precaution, in 
your journeying, that you do not expose yourself to acci- 
dents. You will not travel, I trust, without a companion, 
nor without a servant. I hope you will read and study very 
little, and pray much. Many new temptations will assail 
you. Let your heart be established by grace and the fear 
and love of God. Trust not in any creature, however ex- 
alted, but trust in the living God. My dearest son, to God I 
commend you, and with him I leave you. 

" J. BUCKMINSTER.'' 



CHAPTER XIV. 

JOURNAL OF J. S. BUCKMINSTER IN LONDON. JOURNAL AND 

LETTERS UPON THE CONTINENT. 

1806-7. Mr. Buckminster embarked in the packet- 
Aged 23. s hip John Adams, about the 10th of May, for 
Liverpool, where he arrived June 6th, and from thence 
travelled by post-horses to London, where he was re- 
ceived at the house of Samuel Williams, Esq., the broth- 
er of his excellent friends, the Lymans. There he again 
met his early friend, Mr. Francis Williams, and his resi- 
dence was made delightful by every attention that refined 
hospitality and sincere attachment could bestow. Early 
in August, he was joined by his intimate friend, Rev. 
Samuel C. Thacher, and together they embarked for 
the continent, and landed at Harlingen, on the Zuyder 
Zee. They passed rapidly through Holland and a part 
of Belgium, ascended the Rhine, and, partly on foot, 
made a tour of Switzerland. Joseph kept a very full 
journal of this journey upon the continent, of which a 
small part has been published in a letter to a friend, de- 
scribing the fall of part of the Rossburg mountain in 
Switzerland. They were often put to inconvenience in 
this tour by meeting with Bonaparte's new-made kings, 
also on their travels, who usually monopolized all the 
post-horses, and made humble travellers wait. Readers 



256 



JOURNAL IN LONDON. 



have been so completely satiated with travels in Hol- 
land and Switzerland, that no extracts from the jour- 
nal in those countries will be introduced here. It may- 
be remarked, that the description of the fall of the Ross- 
burg * is a fair specimen of its merits. 

As soon as he arrived in London, he found himself in 
the midst, of a delightful circle of friends. A short ex- 
tract from his journal while there will give some idea of 
the enchantment of this society to a young man of 
twenty-three. 

" Tuesday, June 26th. Dined with Dr. Rees, editor of 
the Encyclopedia. Introduced to Dr. Aiken and his son 
Charles. To Mr. Jones, the author of a Greek grammar. 
At the dinner there was a truly pleasant and instructive con- 
versation. It turned upon the evidences of a future state 
from the light of nature. Dr. Rees is a man of amiable 
manners, various learning, some anecdote, and talents more 
than common. 

" Thursday, 28th. Breakfasted with Mr. Jones. We had 
a truly learned and delightful conversation. Mr. Jones had 
studied with Gilbert Wakefield. 

" Monday, July 2d. Went to the British Museum at 
twelve o'clock. Dined at Mr. William Vaughan's, in com- 
pany with Granville Sharp, Dr. Aiken and Charles, Mr. 
Ellis, a writer in the Edinburgh Review. G. S. fully be- 
lieves in the agency of a personal devil in the vices of man- 
kind. 

" Tuesday. Dined at Dr. Rees's, with Mr. Belsham, Mr. 
Tooke, Mr. William Taylor of Norwich. Conversation de- 
lightful. The tone is certainly higher than with us. 

" Wednesday. At Mr. William Vaughan's, with a learned 
party. 

* Published first in the Anthology. It also makes a part of J. S. 
BucKminster's Works, first collected in 1839. 



JOURNAL IN LONDON. 257 

" Thursday. Breakfasted at Sir Joseph Banks's. Intro- 
duced to Sir Charles Blagden, and Mr. William Smith, 
President of the Linnsean Society. Dined with Mr. Jones. 
Introduced to Dr. Young, of the Scots' Church. 

" Saturday. Dined at Hackney, with Mr. Belsham. 

" Sunday. Attended church at the Foundling Hospital. 

" Monday. Dined at the Rev. Mr. Jervis's, Gray's Inn 
Square, with a large party. Supped at Gilbert Wakefield's, 
with only his daughter present. 

" Tuesday. Dined at Sir Joseph Banks's in the country. 
Present, Sir Charles Blagden, Mr. Dalrymple, author of a 
Collection of Voyages, Mr. William Smyth, by favor of 
a ticket from whom, I went to the House of Commons in 
the evening. Subject : American Intercourse bill. Mr. 
Grant, Master of the Rolls, spoke against it. Lord Henry 
Petty in explanation. Next day, I was introduced to. Lord 
Henry Petty at Mr. Vaughan's, and to Mr. Planta, Librarian 
of the British Museum. 

" Thursday. Dined at Mr. Grant's, Master of the Rolls. 

" July 8th. Called on Mr. Wilberforce, by appointment, 
and found him at dinner. As I was engaged to dine, I ac- 
cepted an invitation for another day." 

A month was passed in this delightful manner in Lon- 
don, and he had invitations from a constantly increasing 
circle of literary persons for another month. But an 
attack of his complaint warned him that he must com- 
plete his tour in Switzerland before cold weather, and 
he and his friend, Mr. Thacher, tore themselves away 
from the fascination of London society. 

From Switzerland the friends directed their course to 
Paris, where their residence was protracted to more 
than five months, while nearly all correspondence with 
England was cut off by the operation of the Berlin and 

22 * 



258 RESIDENCE IN PAEIS. 

Milan decrees. At the same time, there was no direct 
communication with the United States from France. 
The enchantments of Paris failed in some degree of their 
influence upon my brother. Even where the treasures 
of the whole continent were collected, he could not be 
entirely contented, because the objects that would most 
conduce to the great purpose of his life were not there. 
He measured every thing, not by the relations of pleas- 
ure, but of duty, and dwelt 

" As ever in the great Taskmaster's eye." 

He kept no journal of his residence in Paris, but 
merely wrote with a pencil, in* common pocket-book, 
descriptions of some of the interesting persons with 
whom he became acquainted. These are nearly ef- 
faced ; the names of Madame de Stael, Benjamin Con- 
stant, Count Rumford, only give rise to regret that the 
remarks of so young and fresh an observer upon persons 
now consecrated for ever to fame should- be lost. He 
witnessed two very interesting events in Paris. At the 
sitting of the great Jewish Sanhedrim, convened by Na- 
poleon, in the winter of 1806-7, he was present, and 
took notes. He was also present at the reception of 
Cardinal Maury at the Institute. It was to have been a 
grand public reception, but the Cardinal insisted upon 
being addressed by the title of Monsigneur, which he 
conceived he had a right to demand, but which his col- 
leagues of the Institute were not disposed to grant. 
The dispute was submitted to the Emperor, who post- 
poned the public reception. It was therefore private, 
but not the less interesting. 

These five months in Paris, amid the unappreciable 
and inexhaustible treasures of Europe and of the fine 



RESIDENCE IN PARIS. 259 

arts at this time collected and stored there by Bona- 
parte, must have been most rich in instruction. Prob- 
ably the strict surveillance exercised over foreigners;, 
especially those so much resembling Englishmen, was 
the reason that no journal or record was kept of his resi- 
dence in Paris. Much of his time was spent in collect- 
ing and sending to America a valuable library of the 
choicest writers in theological, classical, and general lit- 
erature, amounting to about three thousand volumes. 
For this purpose he spent nearly the whole of his little 
maternal fortune, saying to himself, " Thou hast goods 
laid up for many years." This exulting remark is 
immediately followed by the reflection, — " Although 
I may, by the Providence of God, be cut off from the 
enjoyment of these luxuries of the mind, they will be a 
treasure to those who may succeed me, like the hoards 
of a miser scattered after his death. I feel that, by 
every book which I send out, I do something for my 
dear country, which the love of money seems to be de- 
pressing into unlettered barbarism." 

It must be remembered that this was written forty 
years ago ; and perhaps remarks like the above, and the 
energies of his young mind directed to this purpose, did 
something towards awakening the love of literature, 
which has since gone hand in hand with the love of 
money, in that part of the State which claimed his fond- 
est affection. 

Since the days of this visit to the old world, the pub- 
lic has become so familiar with the objects of interest 
that claimed his attention, that great reluctance has been 
felt to make such selections from his letters as will con- 
tinue the thread of the narrative. Had they been pub- 
lished at the time they were written, when England and 



260 IMPRESSIONS OF SEA LIFE. 

France were comparatively new to travellers from the 
United States, they would have possessed an interest 
from the freshness of remark every where exhibited. As. 
the reflection has been constantly forced upon me, that 
the places and objects of art have become familiar to us, 
and that the persons with whom he became acquainted, 
however celebrated then, have faded from the memory 
of the present, I have erased page after page of letters 
that I had copied, and have retained only those that ex- 
hibit the mind and feelings of the writer ; so that, if an 
interest has been awakened in him, they may, by their 
personality, impart more freshness to this memoir of his 
life. 

We go back to his arrival in Liverpool, and begin 
with his first letter. To his father : — 

" Liverpool, June 6th, 1806. 
" My dear Father, — Every thing seems to have con- 
spired, under the blessing of God, to make our passage 
pleasant, safe, and quick. I have now beenja few hours in 
Liverpool, and find that a vessel sails early to-morrow 
morning for Boston. These few lines will tell you that we 
have had a passage of twenty-three days ; that I have hard- 
ly known any of the dangers or trials of the sea. I cannot 
find a single subject of complaint in any of the circumstances 
of this voyage. The order of the ship was surprising, and 
far beyond what I had anticipated. I have not heard more 
than three instances of profane language on board, which I 
could not have said if I had remained in Boston. We had 
religious services on every Sabbath ; once, I read printed 
sermons, and the other days my own. The shortness of 
the passage will hardly allow me to form any opinion of its 
probable effect on my health. But, whether it should be 
favorable or useless, or even unfavorable, I shall submit, I 
hope, with resignation, satisfied that the step I have taken 
was the dictate of duty. 



CORRESPONDENCE. 261 

" I cannot be sufficiently grateful to the kind and protect- 
ing Providence of God, which has made my voyage so 
pleasant, so safe, and so short. I shall have company up to 
London, where I shall go in a few days, by the way of 
Manchester. My love to my dear sisters and all friends. 
God grant that I may never again be obliged to undergo the 
dreadful pain of parting from them ! " 

He writes the same day to his sisters : — 

" Within the last hour, I put my foot on the wharf at Liv- 
erpool, after a passage of twenty-three days from Boston. 
I have very few wonders, or ' moving accidents by flood,' to 
recount ; but the trifling varieties of my voyage will not, I 
am confident, be more interesting to any person in my dear 
native land than to you, my beloved sisters, who have so 
often listened, with concern and pleasure, to the narrative of 
your dear brother's fortunes when at home ; and I am sure 
the eagerness with which you will receive this letter, com- 
pared with the eagerness with which you .have formerly 
opened my letters, will be increased quite in proportion to 
the distance. During the voyage, I gazed frequently, think- 
ing of you, my beloved sisters, with silent wonder and de- 
light, at the sun, quenching his fiery beams as he sank in the 
waves of the western ocean, and enjoyed the thought that 
to you, in Portsmouth, he had not yet disappeared; but that 
you would be blessed, this day, with several hours more of 
sunshine, (may it be also that of the heart,) after your 
brother had retired to rest 

" Nothing alarming or wonderful occurred during the re- 
mainder of our voyage. We have taken excellent lodgings 
at the Star and Garter, in Liverpool. The gentlemen to 
whom I have had letters of introduction have treated me 
with every possible civility. The Rev. Mr. Yates, a dissent- 
ing minister, in Liverpool, to whom I delivered my first let- 
ter, asked me to dine with him the next day, (Sunday,) and 



262 LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 

urged me much to preach for him ; but I declined. In the 
evening, I walked out with his son, and took tea at his son's 
little, elegant cottage, about a mile from the town ; returned 
about nine o'clock, and supped with the Rev. Mr. Yates and 
a few friends, to some of whom I had letters of introduction. 

" June 13th. The ladies in Liverpool dress much, and 
are rather fond of being gazed at. You would be aston- 
ished to find how stout and robust are the English women. 
I have hardly seen ten slender forms ; though the defect is 
amply compensated by the healthiness of their complexions, 
and the native glow of their cheeks. But a young lady in 
Mrs. N.'s boarding-school, if she found herself as gross as 
the most fashionable Liverpool belles, would be unhappy 
from morning to night. Another circumstance, which forci- 
bly strikes an American, is, the prodigious number of women 
of the lower order who fill the streets, so that you contin- 
ually see three women at least to one man. Their appear- 
ance is the most direful you can imagine. They perform 
labor of the heaviest and dirtiest kind, such as would soon 
kill an American woman. But, my dearest -sisters, I must 
finish this letter, for it is time to set off for Manchester, on 
my way to London. Mr. Williams writes that he is expect- 
ing me, and has prepared rooms for my use in his house, 
No. 13, Finsbury Square. I shall spend to-morrow and 
next day in Manchester, and reach London, I hope, before 
the 19th, as I must appear at the Alien Office by that day. . 

" When I am a little more collected, I hope I shall write 
to you a better and longer letter. God bless you, my dear 
sisters, and train you up for both worlds. Write me very 
particularly and unreservedly about papa's health. 

" Your affectionate brother." 

To Mrs. Lyman : — 

" Manchester, June H, 1806. 
" My dear Madam, — I cannot let the first impressions, 
which I received upon visiting this delightful country, wear 



LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 263 

away without communicating them to you, who feel an in- 
terest in the improvement and ornamental cultivation of the 
soil of New England. In driving from Liverpool to Man- 
chester, — where I shall remain as little time as possible, for 
Manchester is the region of volcanoes, and as smoky as the 
work-shop of Vulcan, — I was exclaiming, at every rod of 
ground I passed over, What an exquisite country! what de- 
lightful openings ! what rich fields ! what tasteful clumps ! 
what velvet lawns ! what luxuriant vegetation ! And yet 
this is the least ornamented part of England. 

"July Wth. Thus far I wrote in Manchester, not sus- 
pecting that I should not take up my pen again till I reached 
London. And now, in the smoke and dust of this astonishing 
city, I bid adieu (I cannot say a reluctant adieu) to the 
most charming country on the face of the earth ; for I must 
yet acknowledge, although with some shame, that the liter- 
ary luxury of the city has more charms for me than even 
the park at Blenheim, adorned as it is with the oaks of the 
last century, and enlivened with the gambols of fifteen hun- 
dred deer. 

" I stop to tell you that I have just received letters from 
Boston. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart ; but 
they have spoiled this day's sport ; I shall see nothing in 
London to-day with any pleasure. Home, home will fill 
my heart. Tell Mr. Lyman that he need be under no ap- 
prehension about my reading, for in truth I find not a 
moment even to write a line of a journal, which I proposed 
to keep, and hardly to repay the kindness of the friends 
who have written to me. Mr. Thacher has arrived, in fine 
health. I cannot express to you the addition which his 
presence makes to the obligation under which I am laid 
to my friends in Boston. 

" Perhaps you will be amused with hearing of some of 
my excursions. Well, then : last Tuesday, I went out with 
Mr. William Vaughan to dine at Sir Joseph Banks's, who, you 



264 VISIT TO SIR JOSEPH BANKS. 

know, has a great reputation all over the world for his 
science and literary courtesy. Upon our arrival, we were 
introduced into the garden, which serves for a drawing-room 
in the summer. The first object that presented itself was 
a tall woman, dressed in men's clothes. This proved to be 
Lady Banks's sister. You will hardly credit me when I tell 
you that she wore a man's hat, with a black plume, a cravat, 
a shirt with a wide frill, a short huntsman's coat, wristbands 
and sleeve-buttons visible, with no mark of her sex but a 
short petticoat; and this, I am told, is a fashionable riding 
dress ! After waiting a little time, appeared Sir Joseph, 
who has such an inveterate gout, that he moves with his 
legs far apart, at the rate of about ten feet in ten minutes. 
Last of all entered my lady, who is truly a moving moun- 
tain of flesh and blood ; and if ever Sir John FalstafT had 
been allowed by Shakspeare to have taken a wife, this 
would have been the cara sposa for him. There were 
several other gentlemen at dinner. It is not etiquette for 
the hostess to pay much attention to her company, and I, 
who sat next to her, was abundantly employed in helping 

her 

" The gentlemen do not hand the ladies to the table. 
They sit a reasonable time after the cloth is removed, and 
presently we are summoned into the drawing-room, where 
coffee is provided, of which it is the fashion to take one cup ; 
tea is handed afterwards. But to return to Lady Banks : 
her favorite passion is to collect china ; and she has indeed 
collected a superb variety of dishes, jars, pots, cups, sau- 
cers, bowls, ornaments, of all ages, colors, sizes, brilliancy, 
value, and brittleness. A more capricious toy-shop I never 
beheld, though I was obliged to keep a very grave face of 
wonder and admiration, while she dissertated learnedly upon 
the separate pieces, and looked at them for the thousandth 
time, with all the enthusiasm with which a painter would 
gaze at the Transfiguration. Sir Joseph has written a large 



RESIDENCE IN LONDON. 265 

book upon the subject of his lady's china, containing disser- 
tations upon the antiquity of certain pieces connected with 
the different epochs of china history. This book is intro- 
duced with a dedication to Lady Banks, and loaded with 
the most fulsome address to the royal family, who once 
honored my lady's china-room with a visit. Sir Joseph 
cultivates the American cranberry with great success, and 
his ponds are filled with our water-lilies. 

" I need not say that I have every comfort at your 
brother's. I am trying to persuade Francis to accompany 
me to the continent 

" But I must cease writing, or you will cease reading. 
Farewell! May God with his choicest blessings have you 
and your family in his holy keeping ! 

" Your dear friend, 

"J. S. B." 

To his father : — 

« London, June 23d, 1806. 

" My dear Sir, — I rejoice to inform you that I arrived 
safely the day before yesterday ; that I am agreeably ac- 
comodated at Mr. Williams's, in Finsbury Square ; and al- 
though this is in the city, as it is called, and very remote 
from that part of the town to which most of my letters are 
directed, yet I much prefer the conveniences of this resi- 
dence to more fashionable lodgings at the west end. 

"The expenses of travelling in this country are enor- 
mous 

" This is intolerable to an American, but it is not to be 
avoided. In this country, you must either pay money liber- 
ally, or you will be paid liberally in abuse. 

" Most of the persons to whom I have been introduced 
in England are Dissenters, and, of course, Foxites in their 
politics. Many of the most violent of them, however, be- 
gin to be uneasy at the tardiness with which Mr. Fox pro- 
ceeds in those measures of reform to which he has always 
professed himself a friend. 
23 



266 OCCUPATION IN LONDON. 

kl I attended meeting yesterday at the old Jewry, for- 
merly a very celebrated place of worship among the Dissent- 
ers, now very thinly attended. The forms of service re- 
minded me more of New England than any thing I have 
yet seen in England. A chorister, who sat below the pul- 
pit, always set the tune ; and, so natural is it for an English- 
man to be a singer, that, really, I do not think there were 
twenty in the congregation who did not join. The preacher 
was Dr. Rees, a good, substantial old gentleman, with a dis- 
course an hour long. 

" I have had some doubts about the propriety of visiting 
the places of public amusement, but I have come at last 
to the conclusion, that, in a place where my example can- 
not be of evil influence, and where it is no uncommon 
thing for clergymen to be seen, that I should reproach 
myself if I were to leave England without having observed 
what constitutes so great a part of the national character. 

" I should be happier if I had left no friends at home, 
but the recollection of their kindness and my own happiness 
with them, whenever it returns, causes me to^feel more like 
an exile than a traveller. I could never, I am persuaded, 
have left my parish from any motive of curiosity or per- 
sonal gratification. My health, my health alone, which is 
to you and me the most interesting subject, is in no worse 
a -state than when I left Boston. I hope in a few weeks 
more I shall be able to speak with some confidence. Hither- 
to God has kept my feet from falling and my soul from 
death. I have resisted all applications to preach. I wish 
to feel more settled, and more acquainted with the preachers 
and the auditories of this country, before I show myself 
in the pulpit. 

" July 8th. Since I wrote the above, I have had the 
pleasure of dining with Mr. Wilberforce, or rather of sitting 
at his table while he was dining ; for, as I was previously en- 
gaged, I was unwilling to spoil my dinner. He is very 



MR. WILBERFORCE. 267 

much interested in the religious condition of the United 
States, and extremely inquisitive as to the attention paid to 
religious observances. I wish I could have given him a 
more favorable account of the practical religion of my 
dear native land, and have been able to say with confi- 
dence that our personal holiness was greater than in the 
days of yore. God grant that I may never live to see New 
England sunk in such religious indifference and public con- 
tempt for Christianity as prevails, 1 fear, in the parent 
country. 

" I am extremely obliged to E. for her kind letter from 
Boston ; tell her that I sincerely hope the kindness she re- 
ceives there is paid as much to her intrinsic worth, as to 
my memory ; but I am willing that some of it should be 
shown to her on my account, because it will tend to keep 
alive in her mind a more tender recollection of her broth- 
er. I have had the pleasure of seeing many young ladies 
here, the daughters of clergymen and laymen ; but I have 
seen none who have not taught me to love and esteem 
my sisters more than ever. I have seen a daughter of 
G. Wakefield, who knows more Greek and Latin than any 
woman in England, and is now about to be married ; Lucy 
Aiken, daughter of Dr. Aiken, a young lady of remarkable 
talents and accomplishments ; and many others, some of 
whom are connoisseurs in painting, and some in music. 
My next letter to my sisters may be from the midst of the 
luxury of Paris or the simplicity of Switzerland. Love to 
all the little ones. What can I procure for them here which 
may be a pleasure or a profit, and remind them of their 
dear brother? 

" I am just informed that no captain will venture to take 
us over to Rotterdam, and therefore we must take passage 
in a vile Dutch vessel for Harlingen, because the French 
officers there will let us pass for a small fee. This Dutch 
hoy is built much like a butter-boat, and called the Two 



CORRESPONDENCE. 

Sisters. My present plan is to proceed to Switzerland 
so as to travel on foot through that mountain region before 
September, when it will be too cold. From Geneva we 
propose to cross the country to Schaffhausen, and thus to 
come down the Rhine. However, I may be obliged to 
deviate from this route by a thousand unforeseen circum- 
stances. 

" The inclosed letter to my sisters is written chiefly 
for their entertainment. O, that they may reap half the 
delight from it that I have from reading the letters I have 
this morning received from my friends in Americaf among 
whom, you at Portsmouth are the dearest, therefore let your 
letters be the longest. ' As cool waters,' etc. Do not be 
too much grieved, my dear friends, to hear that I have had 
an ill turn in London ; it was slight, very slight, and after 
a long interval. I have hopes, great hopes. The hand of 
Providence seems to have arranged with wonderful favor 
ail the past circumstances of my voyage, and of my situa- 
tion here, and the measure of God's favor is filled by the 
arrival of my friend Thacher this morning. "My last words 
are, write, write, quocunque ?nodo, write. 

" Your dear son, 

"J. S. B." 

" Rotterdam, Aug. 11th, 1806. 

" My dear Sisters, — Here I am at last, with leisure 
enough to sit down and give you a very few notices of my 
tour to this place. There is nothing in this city but mer- 
chants, and boats, and canals ; and after having seen one 
city in Holland, you have seen all. The streets, even in 
these most thronged quarters, are washed and scrubbed 
every day, so that you might without much inconvenience 
absolutely dine off the pavement. 

" The houses are all joined to one another, and all is 
neatness, ornament, stillness, and singularity. But though 



PASSAGE TO HOLLAND. 269 

I am now so comfortably seated at a writing-table, in an inn 
called the Marshal Turenne, the hardships and vexations, 
the inconvenience and imposition, which I have passed 
through since I left London, as much exceed all that I have 
have ever suffered before, as the accommodations of a well- 
regulated family exceed the irregularity of a dirty Dutch 
hoy. After passing through all the vexatious delays of the 
alien office in London, in order to obtain passports for leav- 
ing the kingdom, as there is no regular mode of communica- 
tion with the continent, I engaged with a Dutch captain to 
take four of us over to Harlingen, for which we paid him 
ten guineas apiece ; and after going on board, we had each 
to pay two guineas more, in order to persuade him to drop 
down the river Thames to Chatham that night, so that we 
might be able to sail in the morning. When we reached 
the vessel, we found five passengers besides ourselves, with 
not the shadow of accommodation for sleeping, except two 
dirty narrow births already occupied by a gentleman and 
his wife. Accordingly, we took our lodgings in the hold, 
where not one of us could stand upright ; and after three 
days and nights of sea-sickness, during which time none 
of us had our clothes off, we reached Harlingen. If you 
will look upon the map, you will see that, in order to reach 
Amsterdam from thence, we have to cross a large sea, called 
Zuyder Zee ; so, after a night's rest, we took places at four 
o'clock the next morning in the daily packet for Amster- 
dam. The usual length of a passage is twelve hours, but 
after creeping along the whole day till dark, we found that 
we had not accomplished half our voyage, but that we must 
remain all night on board this little vessel, crowded with 
more than fifty passengers, not a word of whose rough 
guttural gibberish could we understand. 

" Here, after all our hardships, I found, that, in order to 
shelter ourselves from the rain, we must retreat to the hold 
of the vessel, in which they usually carry cows. Indeed, it 
23* 



'270 HOLLAND. 

Was a stable. There we sat upon our trunks all night, with 
aching bones, fatigued enough to drop to sleep every mo- 
ment, but in such inconvenient postures, that we could not 
indulge ourselves in forgetfulness. The only person with 
whom I could hold any conversation was the pastor of a 
Protestant church at Leeu warden. He was passing, like our- 
selves, to Amsterdam, and, hearing from Mr. Williams, who 
spoke French, that I was an American clergyman, he imme- 
diately began a conversation in Latin, which I supported with 
some difficulty, in consequence of the mode of pronouncing 
Latin which is universal on the continent. He appeared to 
be a most worthy man, but with the most preposterous no- 
tions about our country. I really regretted that we w r ere 
obliged to part so soon. [After all, they could not reach 
Amsterdam, and were obliged to walk six or seven miles.] 

" I could fill quires of paper with descriptions of the 
singular manners and costumes of the Dutch, especially 
those of North Holland, but I will only tell you a little of 
the dresses of the women. Imagine a short woman, with a 
baby face, covered with the whole breadth sf one of those 
straw hats which you used to buy to make bonnets, with 
two flat gold plates over the ears, to which are suspended 
a half-pound weight of gold or silver ear-rings, which have 
descended in the family through many generations. On her 
head she wears a neat, close cap, with a long streamer on 
each side, descending over the shoulders. Then comes a 
chintz gown, with a long waist down to the hips, and fol- 
lowed by at least a dozen thick petticoats, in the midst of 
summer. Their faces are as uninteresting as the Chinese, 
and their mode of dress (either of male or female) has 
not altered for two hundred years. As to the men, so outre 
is their appearance, that I can only say they were made for 
the women. Our good old Deacon Penhallow would be 
thought quite a beau compared with any Dutchman whom I 
have yet seen. The men smoke from morning to night. 



HOLLAND. 271 

Their good qualities are neatness and punctuality. Indeed, 
so punctual are they in travelling, that they reckon by hours 
instead of miles. 

" The dead level of Holland is a garden throughout, and, 
in passing the numerous country houses which border their 
canals, I was continually reminded of some tree or shrub 
which I had seen blooming in the garden at Waltham. We 
have just concluded to go to Switzerland, by the passage up 
the Rhine to Basle, thence to Geneva, and so back to Paris ; 
so that we shall not see the great city before the latter part 
of September, when half the population of England will 
probably have rushed to Paris to be present at the grand 
fete which Napoleon is preparing. I need not tell you that 
Lord Lauderdale is received with great joy, and that peace 
is expected to be signed in a few days. God bless you, 
my dear sisters, and make you worthy of his love and of the 
love of all the good and wise. Write to me very particu- 
larly about papa's health. Your dear brother, 

"J. S. B." 

As his account of the difficulties of travelling upon the 
continent possesses, when contrasted with the facilities 
that have since been enjoyed, a sort of historical in- 
terest, the extracts from letters of that period are more 
copious. It is curious to remark the embarrassments 
that have been offered to travelling during the past year 
of revolutions, and the progress of public sentiment, 
which seems to produce the same difficulties that were 
caused by despotism fifty years ago. 

After having been turned out of the inn at Coblentz, 
in order to accommodate Louis, King of Holland, and 
being detained there a day, because the king took pos- 
session of all the post-horses, they were still more vexed 
at an embargo in Strasburg, till they could send to Paris 
for permission to proceed on their journey. 



272 STRASBURG. 

" Strasburg, August 30, 1806. 

u My dear Sir, — I am glad to have an opportunity to 
write you a line, though I am sadly vexed at the cause of 
my present leisure. We had travelled up the Rhine as 
far as Mayence, on our way to Switzerland with the pass- 
ports which we took of the American Consul at Amster- 
dam, endorsed by the French Commissary in that city. 
These, we were assured, would carry us through the whole 
of that part of our route which might lie through French 
territory. At Mentz, however, upon going before the Secre- 
tary of Police, we learned, to our inexpressible surprise and 
mortification, that we could not proceed further than Stras- 
burg without passports from Paris. So the police officer 
took our American passports to send them on to the capital, 
there to learn if we may be permitted to travel in France. 
In the mean time, he required us to take a passeporte, pro- 
visoire of him, to carry us to Strasburg ; and informed us 
that we should be detained there ten days, or till our per- 
mits should arrive from Paris. Here, therefore, we are, in 
a city where not an individual is known to us, and where 
nothing is spoken but German or French. If our pass- 
ports should not be sent back to us, we must return to Hol- 
land as we came. I have not much apprehension on this 
score ; the greatest inconvenience is, that we are losing time 
and money, and that the rest of our tour must be very much 
hurried. 

" We have hitherto seen nothing but extremes ; the most 
enchanting scenery that poet ever fancied, or painter ever 
drew, and the most wretched cities and villages which 
poverty, filth, superstition, and vice, and the residence of 
soldiery, can make. I keep a little journal, which may 
perhaps at some future time be interesting to myself, but 
cannot be very much so to any one else. The only Prot- 
estant church which I have seen since leaving Holland, is 
in this city, and this is Lutheran. I have been fairly home- 



STRASBURG. - 273 

sick during this tour, and I believe nothing has contributed 
to it more than the miserable dearth of religious instruc- 
tion, and I fear, too, of the spirit of Christianity. However, 
though I have been a little home-sick, yet, by the blessing of 
God, my health has been otherwise uninterrupted since I 
left England. 

An extract from the journal of the detention of the 
travellers at Strasburg is inserted. It is a fair specimen 
of the whole journal. 

" Strasburg, August 28th. Of this city I had formed 
agreeable expectations, — whether from the appearance of 
the country which preceded it, or from some pleasant clas- 
sical associations, I know not. The Argentorum of the 
Romans has been long familiar to my imagination from 
the circumstance of the Typographical Society of Deux- 
ponts removing here at the beginning of the Revolution, 
from which time the title-pages of their edition of the clas- 
sics have borne the name of Argentoratum. The lofty 
spire of the cathedral we distinctly saw at the distance 
of eight miles, and it was occasionally visible through the 
whole of the last two posts ! 

" It was Sunday, about three o'clock, when we entered the 
gate of the city, where we left our passeports provisoires. 
After dinner, we visited the interior of the cathedral, which 
can hardly be said to be worthy of the exquisite richness 
and beauty of the tower; indeed, how was it possible? 
The church was full of confessionals, and the confessionals 
appeared to be well filled. The pillars which support the 
nave are hung with Gobeline tapestry, wrought from designs 
which picture the imaginary life of the Virgin, ending with 
her assumption. The altar and choir appear to be modern, 
and entirely unworthy the rest of the building. 

" Every thing that we saw in Strasburg told us that it was 



07 1 FRENCH THEATRE. 

rather French than German : and the bustle, the life and 
gayety of the place, without much real business, are truly 
characteristic of French cities. We undertook to walk round 
the ramparts, but were arrested in the midst of our prome- 
nade by the rough command of an officer, who called out. 
' Descendez, Messieurs /' The barracks, which are prodig- 
iously extensive buildings, appeared to be full of soldiers, and 
not a few of those who saw the day of Austerlitz are here, 
resting from their labors and their wounds. The number of 
wounded soldiers that we see everywhere tells the story 
of the last few years. 

M The evening of Monday we passed at the Theatre Fran- 
cais and Allemande. The proportion, however, which the 
performances in French bear to those in German, is, I sus- 
pect, five or six to one. I could understand but very little 
of the comedy, but I am satisfied that the French theatre 
may be much superior to the English. They have not so 
good plays, but I am assured they have better actors. There 
is a quickness of perception, a delicacy, united with a cer- 
tain rapidhy- of feeling, and a continual sense of propriety 
in the management of scenes, which the English are either 
too slow or too wise to possess. The mutes on the French 
stage appear to be interested in what is going forward, and 
never stand in that awkward or listless manner which you 
observe in England and with us. Add to this, the French 
articulation is more distinct, their pronunciation perfect, 
and their voices upon a higher key than the English. 
These observations are the hasty result of two nigh.-' ex- 
perience, and from one who knows very little of the lan- 
guage. Perhaps a half hour at the Paris theatre will upset 
all my conclusions, and leave only these facts, which I be- 
lieve are acknowledged on all hands, that the costume of 
the French stage is most carefully preserved and their 
declamation unrivalled. 

" Tuesday, 5 P. M. The day and the hour when I as- 



CATHEDRAL AT STRASBURG. 275 

cended the tower of the cathedral of Strasburg can never 
be forgotten ; but as to describing the effect of such an 
elevation and the unrivalled prospect, it is wholly out of the 
reach of my pen. All that I had before seen and read of 
Gothic architecture had given me no idea of the richness, 
the grace, the variety, and the extreme lightness, which are 
all combined in this wonderful structure. It is the glory of 
Strasburg, the admiration of travellers, and sacred to the 
piety, almost an honor to the superstition, which erected it. 
[Here follows a description which is omitted.] 

" The great beauty of this steeple consists, first, in its 
lightness. As it is built of a very hard stone, which is now 
the color of rusty iron, the stone-work is extremely slender, 
and cut with exquisite delicacy, and strengthened with bars 
of iron. Secondly, in its complete preservation. Nothing 
is wanting of its original material except here and there the 
corner of an ornament or some unessential, minute stone. 
Thirdly, in the exquisite variety of its Gothic decorations, 
windows, and side turrets, round which the stone stairs wind 
in a graceful spiral, and are made to contribute essentially 
to the beauty of the structure. Fourthly, in its wonderful 
elevation. When you have reached the top, you havesome 
leisure to think how such exquisitely wrought masses of 
stone, held together with belts and clamps of iron, could 
have been raised to such a height, and how men could have 
worked there without giddiness." 

The journal contains, on the next page, a parallel be- 
tween French and English character, drawn from his 
detention ten days in a French German city. 

" It is impossible to spend six days in any French city 
without discovering something of the difference of national 
character between them and their neighbours on the other 
side of the Channel. We have so often heard of the char- 



276 FRENCH AND ENGLISH CHARACTER. 

acteristic liveliness of the French, that no traveller, upon 
entering their country, is surprised to hear them continually 
talking, and that, too, with the greatest earnestness, accom- 
panied with perpetual gestures. But he may be surprised 
to find that all this noise and earnestness is, in general, 
about the veriest trifles, or the most familiar and common 
topics. The course of a Frenchman's day is totally unlike 
ours. ISagrement is his motto. He rises rather late, and 
takes his coffee, perhaps a single cup, and, at eleven, he has 
his dejeune of a chicken and a bottle of vin ordinaire. An 
Englishman, on the contrary, eats a large breakfast, and is 
busy till six, and then his dinner fills up the remainder of 
the hours. A Frenchman wears his morning gown through 
the whole day ; an Englishman esteems it a matter of con- 
science to be neatly and politely dressed before the hour of 
dinner. A Frenchman will hardly fail of being at the spec- 
tacle every night of the week ; this habit is as regular as 
his meals. An Englishmen will scarcely exceed ten or 
twelve nights in a season. Their food is also as different 
as their dispositions. An English dinner for two or three 
persons would be a moderate joint of meat and some little 
second course ; a Frenchman could not sit down to less than 
a dozen dishes of flesh, fish, and fowl. His pottage is in- 
variably the first ; then an ounce or two of beef, completely 
boiled to rags. Then he breaks his bread, and begins upon 
his bottle of wine ; then comes fish, after that some absurd 
mixture of gizzards, etc. ; then a chicken, duck, or some 
odd wild fowl, a trifle, salad, dessert, etc. Yet, with all 
this rich and endless variety, they are neither gluttons nor 
epicures. They are never anticipating nor discussing their 
meals ; nor do they, like the English, sit long at table to drink 
wine. When their little bottle of French wine is exhausted, 
their potations are finished. A Frenchman eats what is set 
before him, often what an Englishman would send from the 
table ; though more simple, he is more fastidious in his food. 



FOREIGN MANNERS. 277 

" The manners of the French, in public and in private, 
in social intercourse, are all marked with delicacy. Vice, 
in the words of Mr. Burke, loses half its evil not only among 
the great, but among the common people, by losing all its 
grossness. This remark is not only applicable to the court 
of Marie Antoinette, the unfortunate, but to the public. man- 
ners of the French themselves. Everything in the theatre 
and the street wears the exterior of good manners and 
civility. A French audience is never impatient, never 
boisterous. Their applauses are short ; their hisses very 
rare. One night, at Strasburg, the play broke off very 
abruptly, and we were disappointed of a great part of the 
spectacle. We were amused, however, to see how quietly 
the audience took it, when, in England, the whole house 
would have been in an uproar, and John Bull would have 
raved with all the privileges of an Englishman." 

These remarks were made more than forty years ago, 
and when the writer had seen of French cities only 
Strasburg. Another extract from this journal shows, 
that the custom of calling upon authors and celebrated 
persons had not then become so common as to be re- 
garded with approbation. 

" Professor Schweighauser, whose Athenseus makes one 
of the Strasburg edition of the Greek and Latin Classics, is 
a native and an inhabitant of this city, and is now an old 
man. A bookseller politely offered to carry me to see him, 
upon the pretence that he would be glad to see an American 
who was acquainted with his edition of Athenseus ; but 
upon what pretence could I call upon him ? And how 
could I presume to insult him with my imperfect Latin and 
still worse French, the only languages in which I could 
make him understand that I had no right to call upon him ? 
24 



278 STRASBURG. 

So, then, I shall leave Strasburg without seeing Professor 
Schweighauser ! " 

After waiting in Strasburg about twelve days, they re- 
ceived their passports, but their troubles were not yet 
at an end. 

" At the first post-house beyond Strasburg, we were ac- 
costed by four gens (Parm.es, who demanded our passports. 
They were in English, according to an improvident custom 
of the American Consul at Paris. The first officer, upon 
looking at them, cried out ' Ma foi, je n'entends pas le Lat- 
in.'' Another, taking them out of his hand, declared they were 
' Hollandoise.'' However, upon seeing the Paris vise and 
the signature of Fouche, they returned them. Just as we 
were going off, they came back with a paper, which con- 
tained a list of names for which they were commissioned 
to inquire, by stopping all travellers on that route. They 
began to question us with much severity, — to inquire our 
names, our quality, our business, our route*, etc. We be- 
gan to be much alarmed, especially upon my overhearing 
one of them say, ' Ce sont Ires suspects.'' After searching us 
and our baggage, we were permitted to proceed. They 
had found nothing like our names in the list of the sus- 
pected, and nothing suspicious in our baggage." 

After an agreeable tour in Switzerland, the travellers 
reached Paris in October, and took rooms in the Rue 
Vivienne. 

" Paris, November 12th, 1806. 

" My dear Father, — I hope the letters that I have ad- 
dressed to you from different places on the Continent have 
all reached you, because they have all contained some favor- 
able statement of my health ; and 1 am happy to add, that 
I have still abundant reason for believing that my European 



IMPRESSIONS OF PARIS. 279 

sejour, by the blessing of God, will terminate in the per- 
fect establishment of my constitution I have found 

nothing yet in Paris which will make me leave it with regret. 
Knowing so little as I do of the language, I have not been able 
to form many French acquaintances; and the American 
families live in a remote part of the city from me. Ex- 
cept that I have made some valuable and cheap purchases 
of books, I consider my stay here as time almost altogether 
lost. The Emperor is absent on his triumphant Prussian 
campaign, and I fear I shall have no opportunity of seeing 
him. 

" Last Sunday, I attended the Te Deum at the church of 
Notre-Dame, which was performed in consequence of the 
victory of Jena. The concourse of people was immense. 
All the public dignitaries were present in their robes of 
state. The splendor of the costumes and equipages about 
the Emperor's court far surpasses any other prince in Eu- 
rope, and is much more magnificent than under the Bour- 
bons. But I must write nothing upon politics, since a pru- 
dent silence is the order of the day all over this colossal 
empire. I only wish I could let my friends in political life 
in America know how painful, how mortifying, how dis- 
gusting, how low, how infamous, appear the animosities and 
wicked calumnies, with which our American papers are 
filled. I am called every day to blush for the state of 
society among us, and attempt, but in vain, to say something 
in our defence. There is nothing I have more at heart 
than to impress upon the minds of my countrymen the 
grievous injury which we suffer in Europe from the com- 
plexion of our newspapers, and the brutality of our party 
spirit, the infamy of our political disputes. Of what ad- 
vantage is our boasted freedom, if it is only consistent with 
such a state of animosity as now exists in New England ? 
I am every day called to deplore the picture which we 
present to the eyes of Europe. Every paper that comes 



280 GEN. LA FAYETTE. 

from the United States brings its addition to the load of our 
disgrace. 

" It is impossible to be out of employment here, where 
is collected almost everything that is rare, beautiful, or 
valuable. I have begun to take a few lessons in French, 
in order to familiarize myself to the idiom and the pro- 
nunciation, that I may not be an utter stranger in the com- 
pany of Frenchmen. 

" [ have spent the last six days at the country-seat of a 
gentleman, where I have rode on horseback every day ; and 
my sisters would have laughed to have seen me in the field 
with five or six other gentlemen, followed by hounds, chasing 
a hare. There I enjoyed for two days the company of 
Gen. La Fayette, whose name, you know, is dear to Ameri- 
ca. It is impossible to conceive of a man of more amiable 
manners, or in whose conversation one could take more de- 
light. He is extravagantly attached to everything Ameri- 
can, and full of interesting anecdotes of the revolution in 
our country and in France. My fire is out, and, as wood 
is fifteen dollars a cord in France, I dare* not make any 
more. O, may He who has hitherto watched over me bring 
about, in His good providence, such a termination of my 
tour as to restore my health, and bring me to you, to my 
sisters, my friends, and parish, in the course of another 
six months ! " 

To Mrs. Lyman : — 

" Paris, November 12th, 1806. 

" My dear Madam, — When I sit down to write a letter 
to Boston, the multitude of friends to whom I am indebted 
quite overwhelms me, and I hardly know to whom to direct 
my lines ; but I feel more at liberty in addressing myself 
to you than to any one, because, as I have no reason to 
expect a return to my letters, I know you will not blame 
me for want of punctuality. Francis and I have visited 



FRENCH LADIES. 281 

together some of the most delightful spots in the old world. 
You know he has an eye continually open to the charms 
of nature, and that his taste has been much cultivated by 
the attention he has always paid to the fine arts ; he has 
imparted to me infinite pleasure by his conversation. I 
have every reason to believe that he has arrived safely in 
Finsbury Square, where I hope to meet him before the first 
of January. 

" You, I know, will not expect me to say much of Paris, 
for the very reason because there is so much to be said. 
In visiting the apartments of the Emperor and Empress, in 
the Tuilleries, I wished twenty times that you could have 
been with me, to have admired the exquisite taste of the 
furniture, the splendor of the decorations, and the perfection 
which the Parisians have attained in all the furniture and 
arts of living. As I am acquainted with very little exclu- 
sively French society, I draw my ideas of French fashions 
not perhaps from original sources, but from the families 
of Messrs. Bowdoin, Parker, and Hottinguer. Their din- 
ners are models of ease and elegance. The company is 
seated promiscuously, the servants numerous, the wines 
light and agreeable, the time spent at meals always mode- 
rate, the gentlemen rising with the ladies. 

" A French family, you know, cannot live without com- 
pany. An evening spent at home with one's husband and 
children would be terribly ennuyeax; of course, the specta- 
cle, or a party, is always at hand to fill up the evening. 
Domestic education, I presume, is almost unknown in Paris. 
I am extremely charmed with the general appearance of 
French ladies. It is true, their faces are by no means as 
handsome as you will see among the English and Ameri- 
cans, but their persons, their air, their tout ensemble, is truly 
admirable and fascinating. The lowest wench in a French 
kitchen dresses with more taste than many English and (you 
will pardon me) American ladies. Whether it is the con- 
24* 



889 IMPRESSIONS OF TARIS. 

tinual contemplation of the finest works of ancient genius that 
gives them this power of decoration, and of producing beau- 
tiful effect, or whether their forms are really better than 
ours, I know not ; but it is only necessary to take a tour in 
the streets of Paris, to be satisfied of the superior elegance 
of the women of all ranks. 

" The grand theatre here, where are played the first-rate 
plays of Racine, Corneille, and Moliere, is, in my opinion, 
the purest school of morals to be found in Paris, excepting, 
perhaps, the Protestant Church. I attend it once or twice 
a week, and return more satisfied than from any other place 
of amusement in Paris. But alas ! I feel that in this city 
I am not where I ought to be, and I sigh for America, 
for New England, for my people and friends. How glad 
I am that none of my female friends were born here, al- 
though I wish they could enjoy the pleasure of a visit ! I 
know none who would enjoy it more than you, and S., and 

Mr. Lyman, but you will never come ; and I pray 

God I may be .able, before the end of six months, to com- 
municate to you a little of what I have collected worthy of 
your ear 

" You will think this a strange letter, but, from such a 
city as Paris, w r hat shall I write? About the Tuilleries and 
the Louvre ? It would take a quire of paper. About the 
Venus de Medicis and the Apollo ? What, — that they 
are very pretty statues ? Precious information ! and you 
would put me down for a coxcomb. In the midst of Paris, 
my desires turn towards Boston. This single confession is 
a sufficient answer to all affectionate inquiries, and proves 
me, as ever, your affectionate, faithful servant, 

" J. S. B. ,: 

" Paris, December 7th, 1806. 
" My dear Sisters, — I will begin this page with tender- 
ly recollecting you and the little ones, — you, the careful 



I 



EDUCATION OF YOUNG LADIES. 283 

guardians, they, the docile objects of your love and care. 
It is painful beyond expression to be so shut out from com- 
munication with you. I sincerely hope you have not suf- 
fered so much from ignorance of your brother's welfare. I 
have written every month, if my letters have only arrived 
in season to relieve your anxiety. If I only knew what 
you would be most pleased with, I could procure you here 
a thousand little conveniences, at a much cheaper rate than 
they are to be procured in America ; but alas ! I know not 
your wishes nor your wants. I am doubtful whether let- 
ters written in English will be permitted to pass. In this 
state of uncertainty, I have wished a thousand times that you 
understood French, that I might address my letters to you 
in that language, which is, in fact, the only one understood 
all over the world. Would it not be worth your while, my 
dear sisters, to apply yourselves a little to it, to ascertain 
whether you made sufficient progress to encourage you to 
proceed, and, by the help of a grammar and dictionary, 
and afterwards without, to enter on some easy author, such 
as Florian and Marmontel, and afterwards upon the vast 
stores of pleasant reading with which French literature 
abounds ? The system of education here, for young ladies, 
is extremely rigid. Under the age of twenty, and even 
till marriage, they are confined very much at home. They 
are never suffered to visit, and rarely to go out without 
their mothers or instructors. The strictest attention is paid 
to the decency of their manners. There education is rigid, 
though perhaps trivial and superficial. Not a day passes 
of which two or three hours are not devoted to the piano, 
to the drawing-master, the dancing-master, and perhaps 
Italian, English, or German. It is only after marriage that 
young women are free. They are married without their 
choice, I had almost said without their knowledge : of course, 
the last persons they are solicitous to please are their hus- 
bands. Each partner has separate pleasures and pursuits. 



284 LIFE IN PARIS. 

A French lady never grows old. It is indeed astonishing 
to find how long they retain their vivacity; and there is 
nothing to betray their age, for their complexions, thanks 
to the perfection to which they have brought the cosmetic 
art, are the same at every period of life. I hope, my dear 
sisters, you will always remain young without the help of 
paint, and full of vivacity without being indebted for it 
to the happy climate of France, but to the combined influ- 
ences of good sense, benevolence ever active, and piety 
ever grateful and ever resigned. When, when shall I have 
the happiness to receive a letter from you ? But I will not 
be uneasy. The Atlantic of three thousand miles sepa- 
rates us, it is true ; but what is that to the eye of Provi- 
dence ? A line, a point 

" I am not sufficiently charmed with Paris to make me 
happy here. It is a place, I think, with which no man can 
be enraptured who is not willing to seek for pleasure be- 
yond the limits of strict evangelical morality. But still 
there is enough to employ every moment of a literary man's 
hours ; and if I wished to devote myself -to any science 
except those connected with theology, there is no place on 
the face of the globe that presents such varied and rich 
facilities. 

"Forgive the emptiness of this letter. Take care of 
papa, and may God keep you all to embrace once more 
your dear brother ! J. S. B." 

" Paris, December 19th, 18C6. 
" My dear Sisters, — This day is, without exception, the 
most delightful that I have enjoyed since I left Boston. I 
am in ecstasies ; my hand trembles with joy and gratitude. 
I have just received a large packet of letters from America, 
the first since the beginning of October. O, my dear sisters, 
how exquisite is the happiness of hearing from home ! I 
forget that I am in Paris : your letters have transported me 



EMPLOYMENT IN PARIS. 285 

to America, to Portsmouth, to our own fireside ! When 
shall I hear again ? God be thanked that these have 
reached me, and that they do not contain a single article 
distressing, or even unpleasant. 

" You will no doubt be surprised that I have remained 
so long in Paris. I am us much surprised at it as your- 
selves. I have my passport now in my pocket, and wait 
impatiently to get away. You will ere this have seen the 
decree of the Emperor, which renders all intercourse be- 
tween the Continent and England almost wholly impracti- 
cable. Still, however, I hope I have not been uselessly 
employed here. In the first place, I have every reason 
to believe that my health is every day reestablishing itself. 
I hope to return to you and my dear father, if not entirely 
cured, at least much ameliorated. But of the former I 
have many reasons to hope, even confidently. I trust I 
shall be able to be more useful, more industrious, and more 
interested in the great cause of truth and piety, than ever, — 
that I shall be a more devoted, I cannot be a more affection- 
ate, brother. But this remains a secret in the will of Heaven, 
and why should I be anxious to explore it? Even if Eu- 
rope should be destined to receive my bones, and strangers 
to close my dying eyes, is there not another country in 
which no good man will be a stranger ? Yes, there is. 
And let me beg of you, my beloved sisters, to remember, 
that it is the region to which all our hopes and fears, our 
pursuits, our inquiries, and our meditations, should continu- 
ally tend, or, at least, from which we should never be es- 
tranged, and to which we should never even for a moment 
be indifferent. May God form you both to rational and en- 
lightened faith in his religion, and to an habitual love of 
all its duties. I hope you have received a work which I 
requested might be sent to you from Boston, written by that 
excellent woman,, Mrs. Hamilton 

" My principal employment here has been collecting 



286 LIFE IN PARIS. 

books. Works in theology may be bought for a trifle, and 
I have gone to the full extent of my resources in collecting 
a very large library. I wish you read French. I could 
provide you here a little library at a cheap rate, which 
would be an endless source of pleasure to you, when your 
cares are less than at present, and you will have culti- 
vated, I hope, that taste for reading, which will be to you 
of infinitely more value than jewels and riches inexhaustible. 

" I should have reaped much greater pleasure from my 
long sejour in this city, if, in the first place, there were any 
Protestant church, which I could have frequented with satis- 
faction, and, in the next place, if I understood the language 
sufficiently to take pleasure in French society. Without 
this accomplishment, Paris must be in some measure dull to 
any person who is not willing to relieve his ennui by rush- 
ing into scenes of guilty amusement. The Theatre Fran- 
cois is certainly an exception, and perhaps the best school 
of morals, as well as the best means of learning a correct 
pronunciation of the language, in Paris. I have been there 
two or three evenings every week, and consider it time well 
spent. 

" Mr. Bovvdoin's family has become almost indispensable 
to me. Judge Tudor's is very agreeable. They have a 
little company every Monday evening, among whom are 
to be found most of the Americans here. I find entertain- 
ment of a still higher class in the company of Count Rum- 
ford, and of those whom I meet at his house. He has a 
weekly meeting of the members of the Institute, and his 
wife, the widow of the famous Lavoisier, is able to bear a 
part in the most scientific discussions. I must refer you to 
the letters I shall send to some of my friends in Boston, 
which contain a few of the impressions which this city has 
made upon my mind. 

" I have received my mother's hair with the greatest 
pleasure. As to the portrait, I am afraid I shall not an- 



LETTER TO ME. LYMAN. 287 

swer your request ; at any rate, I hope I shall not have time 
to have it executed in Paris 

"I add only a few words, that I am pleased at anything 
which looks like literary taste or curiosity in your letters. 
Although I am aware that both my sisters are immersed in 
cares for their father and the younger ones, yet I am grati- 
fied to perceive in your letters that your minds are con- 
tinually ripening and improving. Your sex have always 
been famous for their epistolary excellence. Madame de 
Sevigne in France, and Lady Montagu in England, have 
left the finest specimens in this kind of writing. Perhaps 
Cowper, however, has redeemed the inferiority of our sex 
in this respect. But the first requisite in letter-writing is a 
most accurate orthography. Elegant effusions of sentiment 
will not compensate a defect in spelling in the eyes of a 
person who sees the original. In the next place, a gram- 
matical, and, lastly, an easy and perspicuous, construction 
of sentences, is indispensable. Let me recommend to your 
perusal Blair's large work on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres. 
I shall devote the next pages to the little ones. 

" Farewell, my dear sisters. I love you more and more 
the farther I am from you, and the longer I am absent. 
Your dear brother, J. S. B." i 

To Mr. Lyman : — 

" Paris, January 2d, 1807. 
" My dear Benefactor and Friend, — My father tells 
me, in a letter dated some time in August, which I received 
about a week ago, that you appea red somewhat surprised 
at not having received any letter from me. If I had thought 
that my neglect of writing would have appeared to you an 
indication of my having lost any portion of that love and 
respect which I have ever felt for you, I should not have 
been guilty of so much inconsiderateness, which I fear you 
have felt as a kind of ingratitude. But really, my dear 



«88 LETTER TO MR. LYMAN. 

Sir, as I had never been in the habit of corresponding with 
you, I was a little doubtful whether you would now ex- 
pect it from me ; and if I have failed in dut}', I can never 
fail in affection. I hope Mrs. Lyman has received all the 
letters I have addressed to her, and that you both have seen 
those I have addressed to Shaw and Walter. If you have 
not been made perfectly acquainted with everything that 
I have written to America, it was because my correspond- 
ents were ignorant of the perfect confidence, affection, and 
regard I have always cherished towards you. Forgive me, 
I pray you, if I have not fulfilled what you expected from 
me, and let me know that you have received this letter, 
and have pardoned me. 

" I have not heard, in any of my letters from Boston, that 
Theodore has entered college this year. I hope you will 
not allow him to cherish anything like indifference for a 
liberal education. 1 have the greatest hopes from him. 
Give my love to him and to George. O, may they never 
be corrupted, — never lose those qualities which have made 
them so many friends, and so dear to me ! .Tell them that 
they must not forget him, who hopes to have the happiness 
of seeing the fruit of some of those early instructions which 
it was always his pleasure, and he trusts will be his honor, 
to have given them. 

" A few words for Mrs. L. I have had the pleasure of 
passing an evening with Helen Maria Williams. She has 
a literary coterie every Sunday evening. She is now rather 
advanced in years, and certainly homely, but a very in- 
teresting woman. Madame de Genlis lives in Paris, not very 
much respected. Her works, however, still pass through 
many editions, and when the Bourbons again are in power, 
her turn will come, as she educated some of the members of 
that family. Madame D'Arblay resides here also. I have 
some hopes of being introduced to her. She is a novelist 
who has lived her own romances, as she is said to have 



RETURN TO ENGLAND. 289 

made a most imprudent marriage for love, and is in very- 
low circumstances. Madame de Stael has been long since 
banished from Paris, on account of the freedom of the liter- 
ary and political conversations she was in the habit of hold- 
ing at her evening parties of men of letters, — a kind of club 
which the Emperor did not choose to tolerate. So much 
for literary ladies. 

" Do not let the present state of political affairs in Eu- 
rope weigh too much upon you mind. I have no right to 
ask you for a few lines, but I have a right to say how grate- 
ful they would be. 

" Yours, with every sentiment of affection, 

" J. S. B." 

" Plymouth, Feb. 15th, 1807. 
" My dear Father, — I commence a letter at this place ; 
perhaps it will be finished in London. At length I have es- 
caped from France, — that land of delays, vexations, police, 
and passports, — and am safely landed on British ground, 
where I feel at ease, secure, and comfortable. It is now 
three months since I began to look out for an opportunity of 
coming over, and just as I was upon the point of conclud- 
ing to leave Paris for Holland, the imperial decree came 
out interdicting every species of communication with the 
British Isles. This decree is executed with peculiar rigor 
in Holland, so that my hopes from that quarter were cut 
off, and I was unwilling to undertake so long a journey as 
from Paris to Rotterdam with prospects so unsafe. About 
the middle of November, I heard that Mr. Charles Williams, 
of Boston, was at Cherbourg ; that he was going round to 
Treguier, a little port on the coast of Brittany, to take in a 
cargo of wheat, and that he would go immediately to some 
part of England. I wrote to him on the subject of taking 
Mr. Thacher and myself as passengers. To this he most 
obligingly consented ; and I accordingly took out passports 
25 



'290 JOURNEY THROUGH BRITTANY. 

at the police, to embark at Treguier for the United States. 
These passports I have carried in my pocket more than 
three months. Mr. Williams was detained six weeks at 
Cherbourg. At last we heard of his sailing, and were ex 
pecting every day to be informed of his arrival at Treguier 
upon which we were immediately to set out from Paris 
On his passage round, he was taken by a privateef and car 
ried into Guernsey. Hearing; nothing; from him for a fort 
night, we gave him up as lost or taken, and resigned our 
selves to the expectation of remaining in France for an indefi 
nite period. At length, however, about the beginning of 
February, we were informed of his arrival at Treguier, and 
that we must be there as soon as possible. 

" After spending eight days in traversing the vilest roads 
through the most barbarous country of France, filled and 
traversed about three years since with Chouans and brig- 
ands, we arrived at the little port just in season to get on 
board the vessel. In about thirty hours, we set our feet on 
the opposite shore. I shall set off for London to-morrow, 
and hope to reach it in five days. 

" In all this arrangement of my circumstances, through 
the whole of this last winter, I think I see the hand of the 
kindest Providence. Much against my will, I was detained 
in a mild climate through the severe months, by which my 
health has been restored. I have been reserved for the 
most favorable opportunity in the world for getting over at 
last in the vessel of a friend, where I could be perfectly at 
home, without inconvenience and without expense ; and, to 
crown the whole, the most favorable gales have wafted us 
to England in the shortest time. 

" The season is astonishingly mild. The whole country 
round Plymouth is covered with verdure, and, through the 
whole of the part of France which I traversed, the buds 
were swelling and the grass growing. I cannot but con- 
sider it also a great favor, that, in travelling in the diligence 



JOURNEY THROUGH BRITTANY. 291 

through Brittany, where the people are extremely barbarous, 
clad in goat-skins, and speaking a barbarous language, I 
should everywhere on the road have met with the most 
obliging and attentive Frenchmen, who did everything 
to facilitate our journey, and whom, if I should ever meet 
them in America, I shall rejoice to embrace as friends and 
brothers. My health continues uninterrupted. Adieu." 

There is recorded in the notice of this rapid journey 
to Treguier a singular incident of the romance of real 
life, that seems stranger than the romance of fiction. 

" There travelled with us," he remarks, " in the diligence, 
an ugly Frenchman. Some of the company said he was 
hastening on to Rennes, to take possession of the estate 
of a brother who had lately died in the absence of his wife ; 
and it was supposed she had not heard of the death of her 
husband, and that she would lose all her little estate. As 
we were sitting around the fire in the kitchen of the inn, re- 
lating these circumstances, an aged and sorrowful woman 
appeared to listen attentively. Upon inquiry, we found that 
it was the widow, hastening on to her husband, with whom 
she had been reconciled, but ignorant till that moment of 
his death. She was without means of pursuing her journey 
with sufficient rapidity to reach Rennes as soon as the 
brother-in-law. The passengers of the diligence made up 
a sum, and engaged the landlord of the inn to send her 
immediately on her way. God grant she may reach home 
in time to prevent the fraud of the brother." 

Another interesting circumstance is mentioned in the 
record of this journey. A company of soldiers, a por- 
tion of the coast guard, were travelling this same road 
through Brittany. The captain, with his wife, accom- 
panied them in the diligence. The difficulty of speak- 



292 GRIEF AT THE 

ing the language, and the barbarous state of the country, 
rendered it hard for these two young men of a peaceful 
profession to make themselves understood. The cap- 
tain's wife, however, took them under her especial pro- 
tection, foraged for them, and proved in this instance 
the often repeated assertion of the quick understanding 
and prompt kindness of woman. 

Another letter to his father resumes the corre- 
spondence. 

" London, Feb. 22d, 1807. 

" I have arrived in London to meet with the saddest re- 
verse. I have just heard of the death of my dear friend 
Walter! O, my dear Sir, you cannot know how much I 
loved him ! I never knew till now what it was to lose so 
dear, so excellent a friend. I have been writing letters of 
consolation to some of my afflicted people, and now I want 
it myself. My dear, aged friend, Deacon Storer, too ! Ah, 
a great chasm is made in the precious circle of my attach- 
ments. God preserve you and my dear sisters ! But alas ! 
I tremble at every letter which arrives, lest it should tell 
of the loss of some friend. I hope to be able to preserve 
my health and the equanimity of my spirits by the aid of 
our blessed religion ; but this shock is dreadful. I never 
felt such grief before. Your letters tell me of another 
dreadful fire in Portsmouth. I hope the loss of fortune will 
teach them how foolish it is to love money extravagantly, 
— ah, and even to love anything on earth extravagantly. 
But my friend Walter is no longer on earth ; he is in 
heaven ! 

" I pray you be careful of your cold. Thank my dear 
sisters for their letters. When I feel more at ease, I shall 
write more at length. 

" Your dear son, 

"J. S. B." 



DEATH OF MR. WALTER. 293 

" London, March 11th, 1807. 

" My dear Sisters, — Do not you and my dear father be 
too much distressed to hear that I have had an ill turn, 
after an interval of nearly half a year. It was slight, very 
slight, and I am satisfied that it arose from something I had 
eaten 

" The time that I spent upon the Continent has passed 
like a tale that is told. It was extremely agreeable, except 
that I was always uncertain of any means of returning to 
England. I travelled through France towards the sea-coast 
during the carnival week, and you would think the whole 
nation had run mad. In the little villages, the peasants, 
from the oldest to the youngest, are collected, and every 
species of foolery and absurdity is going on. 

" You cannot know how much 1 have suffered by hear- 
ing of the death of so many friends during my absence. 
I hope, my dear sisters, you will never be called to such 
heavy trials. People will tell us that we are young enough 
to make new friends; — a most impertinent species of con- 
solation. Can the new ever take the place of the old ? We 
may indeed form new attachments, but we cannot knit 
them to the old ; — the void remains, and the heart bleeds. 
Give my sincerest regards to the Storer family. I loved 
their father dearly, and I know that he was more attached 
to me than age commonly is to youth. I have written to 
Madam S., but she is a pious woman, and does not need 
my consolation or advice. I have also written to two other 
of my parishioners, who have been most severely afflicted 
by the loss of children ; — I mean Mrs. H. G. Otis and Judge 
Sullivan 

" I have often thought, my dear sisters, how happy you 
and I are, in having been born of pious and sensible parents, 
descended from excellent ancestors, educated in rather an 
humble condition of life, and drawn into the world and its 
notice, instead of being pushed out prematurely. The con- 
25 * 



294 CORRESPONDENCE. 

sequence of this, 1 hope, will be, that our manners, our under- 
standings, and our hearts will be gradually improving as long 
as we live ; and as we love one another the more the older 
we grow, so we may at the same time be solicitous to ren- 
der ourselves each the more worthy of the other, and of 
that beloved parent whose affection, solicitude, and loveli- 
ness has ever been impressed upon my heart, and who, 
I have fondly hoped, has been permitted to watch over her 
children. 

"Have you read any of Paley's works, — his Natural 
Theology, Moral Philosophy, Evidences, etc. ? I think you 
will find his Natural Theology particularly interesting. The 
world has talked too long about books for ladies ; you ought 
to read fundamentally the same books with the other sex. 
I look forward with anxious and increasing pleasure to the 
hour of returning to you, and imparting to you the added 
knowledge it has been my good fortune, rather than my 
desert, to obtain beyond you. I shall try to procure a few 
elementary books, which shall be of use to my little sisters 
and brother. 

" Since I wrote to papa, I have preached at the Old 
Jewry for Dr. Rees, and have brought upon myself a great 
many solicitations, which I resist manfully. I have just come 
from seeing an old gentleman at Hackney, who has been 
a preacher there thirty-five years, — Mr. Samuel Palmer, a 
particular friend of Orton, and editor of his life and letters. 
I believe I shall be obliged to give him a discourse. But I 
have been induced to preach not so much to assist my 
friends, I acknowledge, as to keep up a kind of familiarity 
with the pulpit, that I may not return raw and awkward. 
As far as I have been able to observe, — and I have attended 
upon almost every variety of preaching in London, — the 
discourses here are very far inferior to those we usually 
hear in New England. 

" God preserve you, my dear sisters ! Ah, I little thought, 



VIEWS OF HIS STATE OF HEALTH. 295 

when I besought my dear friend Walter to be thankful for 
my preservation, I should so soon lament his departure in 
the bloom of life and hopes ! Adieu. Your dear brother, 

" J. S. B." 
To his father : — 

" London, May 5th, 1807. 
" My dear Sie, — A year has nearly elapsed since I gave 
you my last look at Portsmouth ; — a year full of variety, 
and perhaps not entirely destitute of profit. A few weeks 
more, and my exile is at an end. As I draw near the term 
of my absence, my mind is torn by a thousand contrary 
emotions. I wish to escape from London, for I have re- 
ceived the most unbounded, and it seems to me the most 
unmerited, as it is the most unexpected, kindness from every 
person to whom 1 have been introduced ; and I am making 
friends here, whom I shall leave with increased regret if I 
remain longer. I wish upon my return to be perfectly un- 
embarrassed, that I may enjoy the undivided happiness of em- 
bracing you in America. If the malady with which it has 
pleased God to try me should not entirely disappear, I hope 
that I shall be able, by his grace, so to discipline my mind 
as to prepare it for any consequences of such disorder ; — 
consequences, indeed, which I anticipate with anguish of 
soul, but which I think I could bear without guilty com- 
plaint. If I should be obliged to relinquish, at some future, 
I hope far distant, day, the care of my people, this would 
be the severest blow of all. But even this would be re- 
lieved by the consideration that the greatest good is com- 
monly done in youth, and by young preachers, when the 
attachment of the society is fresh, and the zeal of the pas- 
tor most active. Do not think, from the strain of this let- 
ter, (which I have unconsciously run into,) that my com- 
plaints return. No; thank God, I have reason to believe 
they will afflict me less and less, and that my voyage and 
residence on the Continent will contribute essentially to my 



296 CORRESPONDENCE. 

restoration ; but I wish to show you that the most dreadful 
consequences of my malady are familiar, as they ought to 
be, to my thoughts, and that no presumptuous expectations 
of fame, or of long life, ever for a moment make me in- 
sensible to the perpetual lesson of humility with which God 
has visited me. 

" When I think of the numerous distressing events which 
have taken place among my acquaintance during my ab- 
sence, I bless God that the force of them is in some 
measure diminished by distance. 

u I am obliged to delay setting off for Scotland at present, 
for all the horses are taken up in electioneering, and the 
whole kingdom is in a ferment. I intend if possible to be 
in Edinburgh during the sitting of the General Assembly 
of the Kirk of Scotland, which, you know, is one of the 
most famous ecclesiastical courts in the world. I do not 
at present expect to be able to visit the Highlands, but shall 
go from Edinburgh to Glasgow, thence cross over to Ire- 
land, proceed to Dublin, and, upon our return, take South 
Wales, &c., &c., to Oxford, on our way back to London. 

" This may be the last letter I shall write from this side 
of the water, as I shall embark immediately upon my re- 
turn from this tour. My love to my dear sisters and broth- 
er. Remember me to the aged saints at York. 

" Your dear son, 

"J. S. B." 



CHAPTER XV. 

MR. BUCKMINSTER's RETURN TO BOSTON. INCREASED AR- 
DOR IN HIS STUDIES. FRIENDSHIP AND ATTACHMENT 

TO MR. WALTER. — GRIEF AT HIS DEATH. 

1807. On the 10th of September, 1807, Mr. Buck- 

Aged 23. minster returned to Boston. The extracts 
from his letters to his family during his absence have 
been presented in one connected series, not so much 
for the importance of the subjects they touch upon, or 
for their intrinsic value, but as they display his personal 
feelings and his strong attachment to domestic associa- 
tions. There is in them no pride of learning or of in- 
tellect. The simplicity and openness of his intercourse 
with his friends was perhaps the most marked trait of 
his character, and exposed him sometimes, with those 
those who did not know of the entire fidelity of his 
manners to his inward impressions, to the charge of too 
great frankness, or a violation of conventional forms. 

The enchantments of the French capital could not 
wean him from the hourly memory of those he had left 
at home. Devoted as he was to theological studies, and 
to the pursuits immediately connected with his profes- 
sion, he felt that the time was lost which did not aid him 
in increasing the one or in promoting the other. So 
deep was his sense of the duty of preserving his relig- 



298 RETURN TO BOSTON. 

ious feelings fresh and unimpaired, that he was sparing 
of indulgence even in the most innocent amusements of 
Paris, lest they should impair the delicacy of his moral 
perceptions ; yet never was there a person more free 
from ostentatious observances, or who regarded with 
deeper aversion an ascetical and morose morality. 

At the time he visited England, there had been a 
long interval of interrupted intercourse with this country, 
and he was provided with very few letters of introduc- 
tion ; yet his circle of acquaintance soon became large, 
and was increasing among the dignitaries of the Estab- 
lished Church, as well as with Dissenters. He excited 
interest by the freshness and naivete of his character. 
There was something about him that arrested the at- 
tention of strangers, and this attention quickly ripened 
into friendship. 

Friends sprang up wherever he went. In the hold 
of the Dutch hoy, the conversation in broken Latin, 
through the hours of a sleepless night, so riveted the at- 
tention of the worthy Swiss pastor, that he addressed 
Latin letters to him after his return ; and, in the half- 
civilized country of Brittany, filled with Chouans, and 
people scarcely removed a step from barbarism, he 
perpetually called forth the courtesy and kindness of 
men whom he was willing to regard as brothers. 

He had gained so much vigor that he entered with 
new and ardent hopes of increased usefulness into every 
field of duty. He seemed to feel that his parish had 
new and double claims upon him, and that to all their 
previous demands was now added a debt of fervent grati- 
tude. The sermon which he preached, the Sabbath after 
his return, was closed with the following words : — 



SERMON ON HIS RETURN. 299 

"I see, my friends, that your expectations are increased, 
and I feel that your just claims upon my future exertions 
are also increased. I see that I have lost many apologies 
which I could once command ; apologies for occasional in- 
dolence, and excuses for a thousand professional deficiencies, 
with which the feebleness of our powers, or the frailty of 
our natures, is not unfrequently chargeable. It is now too 
plain, since you cannot grow more indulgent to me, I must 
become less so to myself. I see, too, that, in addition to the 
ordinary duties of a pastor, — duties which he cannot in any 
case fail to discharge, without the most criminal unfaithful- 
ness to his people, his Saviour, and his God, — I have now 
a large debt of gratitude to repay. And do I say this is 
burdensome ? God forbid ! No, my friends. It shall in- 
cite, if it cannot strengthen, my exertions, and a thousand 
labors, at which my former weakness might have murmured, 
shall now become imperceptibly light and cheerful as Grati- 
tude herself. If it had pleased God to grant me a greater 
confidence than I have been able to bring home of the con- 
firmation of my health, our joy, I think, would have been 
full. But now, even now, I trust we shall have no reason 
to regret on my part this temporary relaxation. I know 
that, on yours, there has been no failure of regular relig- 
ious instruction, and that your own candor has left to you 
nothing but kind anxiety for me, and to me nothing but 
obligation and gratitude. Far hence, then, every inauspi- 
cious suggestion about futurity ! ' My grace,' says Jesus to 
the drooping Apostle, ' my grace is sufficient for thee.' May 
I not, then, like Paul, thank God and take courage ? " 

In the words of another, — 

" He was welcomed by his society with unabated affec- 
tion and regard. But no praise ever seduced him to inter- 
mit his diligence. His books gave him an inexhaustible 
source of interest and delight ; and as he was unavoidably 



300 RENEWED LABORS. 

exposed to frequent interruptions during the day, his studies 
were protracted till midnight with fatal constancy. In the 
inquiries peculiar to his profession he took increasing pleas- 
ure, and he has more than once told me, that he was fast 
losing his taste for all other studies. In order that this 
all-absorbing interest in theology should not wholly destroy 
his relish for elegant letters, which he justly considered as 
a valuable auxiliary to his ministerial influence, he continued 
to lend his aid, as has been mentioned previously to his 
voyage, to the Monthly Anthology, and to all the publica- 
tions of the day." * 

His activity was now incessant. He gave his aid — 
not only his aid, but his most precious hours — to every 
object of public utility, to every literary and benevo- 
lent institution. These incessant calls made deep in- 
roads upon the time that he would gladly have given 
to study, to the pursuits he loved best ; and he was com- 
pelled to redeem the hours from those which should 
have been given to repose or to exercise.* At this time 
his studies were regularly protracted till after the mid- 
night hour, and followed, but not till a (ew years later, 
with the feverish and restless night. 

The sermons which he wrote during the two years 
after his visit to Europe were perhaps superior to any 
that he ever wrote ; they showed that his spiritual growth 
had been rapid, that the roots had struck deeper, and that 
the fruits enjoyed a serener and fresher atmosphere. 

His sermons were usually written late at night, some- 
times even protracted into the small hours of the morn- 
ing. A note from the Hon. James Savage confirms 
this statement. 

* Thacher's Memoir. 



HABITS OF COMPOSITION. 301 

" It was his habit, as you know, to give more labor 
to the preparation of his sermons than his slender health 
would justify ; at least, his diligence on Saturday night 
was so long protracted, that, during one winter, I often 
called in after ten o'clock in the evening, to afford a 
brief interruption. He would usually break off from 
his sermon, and rejoice in the opportunity ; but he was 
sometimes so absorbed in his work as to desire me to 
permit him to continue, without change of posture, and 
to begin my cigar alone, waiting some half hour for him 
to unite in the indulgence. After I learned, however, 
from his sister, that to finish his discourse was the em- 
ployment of the last minutes before the bell rang for 
church on Sunday morning, that course was abandoned." 

These sermons, that were committed to paper so late, 
had been meditated much during the week. His sister 
always knew when he was meditating his sermon, and did 
not interrupt him, although the breakfast or supper were 
wholly untasted. But when it was over and the sermon 
preached, the exhilaration of his spirits was almost child- 
like. The gentleman already quoted, Mr. Savage, says, in 
his note : — u My memory associates him with every 
thing gentle and cheerful in the intercourse between us 
alone, and, when more were present, he deferred to them, 
and was never willing to occupy so much of the time as 
all desired him to appropriate. Some of the parishion- 
ers, perhaps not more than three or four, met at bis study 
Sunday evenings, after the fatigue of his services re- 
quired relaxation, and there he seemed truly in his 
element, when contributing to the refreshment of his 
guests at the slight supper, and still more after its close, 
and perfectly rested, he could take a larger share in 
the conversation." 
26 



DEATH OF MR. WALTER. 



There was indeed a circumstance which deeply affected 
him, and deducted largely from his happiness upon his 
return to Boston. This was the death of his friend, 
Arthur Maynard Walter. The reader may remember 
the strong expressions of his grief in his last letter to 
his father upon hearing the sudden and appalling news 
of his death. To this his father answers by the next 
letter : — "I anticipated the shock which the news of 
the death of your friend would give you ; but from your 
chirography and expressions, I believe it was more se- 
vere than it ought to have been ; and was perhaps more 
unexpected than anything ought to be in this world of 
uncertainty and death. We should always reflect that 
our friends are mortal, and that w T e know not what 
a day may bring forth ; we should form our friend- 
ships and connections under this impression, and enjoy 
and improve them accordingly." 

Walter seems to have been the dearest and most in- 
timate of his friends. His character was such as to 
inspire a warm attachment in a large circle. He was 
some years older than Buckminster, and two years be- 
fore him in college ; and was one of those who noticed 
and encouraged his younger associate, and perhaps was 
ready to protect him from the inconveniences to which 
his small stature and youthful appearance might have 
exposed him. He was repaid with warm gratitude and 
an enduring attachment. His death also was the first 
deep wound of the affections which my brother had ever 
received, — at an age, too, when the heart is most sus- 
ceptible of the tenderness of friendship. A philosopher 
asks, " Can another be so blessed, and we so pure, 
that we can offer him tenderness ? " Such seems to 
have been the feeling of these friends to each other ; 



LAST LETTER OF MR. WALTER. 303 

and as neither of them was absorbed by ties of a more 
selfish nature, God seems to have given them each to 
the other. 

The last letter that Walter wrote was to his friend, in 
anticipation of his return ; and, as it presents many char- 
acteristics, a part of it is here inserted. 

" November, 1806. 
" My dear Friend, — By our calculations, you will have 
reached London, after your jaunt on the Continent, before 
this can arrive in England. 1 hope you have been spirit- 
ualized amid the scenery of Switzerland ; I know you must 
have been enchanted with the situation and fertility of 
France and Brabant. I hope you are now beginning seri- 
ously to think of recrossing the Atlantic and settling for 
life among those whom you love. In my solitary moments, I 
sometimes dwell on the comparative pleasures of London 
and Paris, and on the singular movements which the mind 
experiences among various nations, severally and strangely 
distinguished by customs, manners, laws, and modes of 
faith. All these feelings and pleasures, caused and adorned 
by novelty or mystery, have, in America, attracted my 
mind at different times towards the nations of Europe, and 
Duty has exercised her strong dictates to prevent their 
powerful and effectual operation. But I acquire submis- 
sion, if not contentment ; and when I wish I were in Lon- 
don or Paris, I consider that I ought to remain where I am. 
These bursts of romance and regret you will experience 
after your return ; but your principles of religion will give 
you perfect tranquillity. Yet, indeed, I hope to visit Europe 
again, but I shall not do it till I am perfectly able in every 
respect. I love to keep my mind quiet, and yet in a little 
state of agitation to prevent drowsiness or too great relaxa- 
tion. I have missed you very much, and still feel your 
absence, as having taken a large sum from the amount of 



30-4 LETTER UPON THE DEATH 

my happiness; but I have Adam Smith's constituents of 
felicity, health, a good conscience, and am in no man's 
debt ; and as there is a great deal of affectation in com- 
plaint, I do not mean to be guilty of such folly ; for I can 
truly say I am quite happy. I have every reason to be 
contented. I hope, also, I am not ungrateful to the Giver 

of every good and every perfect gift 

" The Anthology Club is large enough. I hate large 
associations, — there is no mingling of mind in great com- 
panies. 1 beg that you will return pretty soon, and take 
your place among us. I don't know whether I told you of 
my having found a fine cigar in your room, which I smoked 
to your health and happiness ; but I want to smoke another 
with you in your study. I love the tales of old times. 

" Yours, 

"A. M. Walter." 

When his friend received this letter, the warm heart 
of the writer had ceased to beat. The following letter 
will show with what grief the event was regarded by 
the bereaved wanderer. 

" London, January 22d, 1807. 
" 0, my dear Friend ! * — My heart is full of anguish ! 
Mr. Thacher has just handed me his brother's letter, which 
informs us of Walter's death. Walter dead ! I cannot 
believe it ! I cannot believe it ! The transition of my mind 
from the highest delight to the greatest distress is too vio- 
lent to be realized at present. I had just arrived in Lon- 
don, delighted with having escaped at last from France, 
and burning with impatience to open my letters from Ameri- 
ca ; and, in this state of excitement, I am told Walter is 
dead ! O, dear, dear Walter ! Have I lost you for ever ? 

* To William S. Shaw, Esq. 



OF MR. WALTER. 305 

Alas ! I am ashamed of myself, of the weakness of my faith ! 
When I left you all to come to Europe, the parting was in- 
deed painful, but continually relieved by the belief that 
I should see you all again, after some time of absence. I 
ought to feel that it is the same thing now with respect to 
Walter, — that I shall see him again, the absence only a 
little lengthened. The voyage of my own life will not be 
long, and we shall meet again ! Last May, I took leave of 
him for a year only. I could not anticipate that our sepa- 
ration would be so much prolonged ; but now I feel that I 
ought to have been prepared for it. Dear Walter ! I 
suspect the last letter he ever wrote was addressed to me. 
Alas ! I cannot read it without tears. I have been writing 
to him by every opportunity. Ah, they are letters which 
he will never read ! My dear Shaw, how I wish I were 
with you, to give vent to my sorrow ! I cannot do it on 
paper. It is a cold, idle, slow method ; and instead of re- 
lieving, it oppresses me. I look to the great promises and 
expectations which the Gospel holds out ; — they tell me I 
shall meet him again in a world more worthy of his noble, 
pure, pious heart than this, if I should ever be worthy to 
reach that world myself. But the great duty now is to resign 
ourselves to this heavy loss, till we meet him again. Even 
Jesus wept at the tomb of Lazarus, though he knew that 
his power could restore him again to life. ' Behold, how 
he loved him ! ' said the Jews. We surely may weep. Alas ! 

we may go to him, but he cannot return to us ! 

" My friend, I can write no more at present. I shall 
endeavour to busy myself about your commissions,* and 
dissipate a little the heavy cloud which hangs over my mind. 
O, my friend, how much is subtracted from our hopes of 
future enjoyment ! The recollection of Walter, whenever 
it occurs in writing, or in conversation about America, or 

* Purchasing books for the Athenaeum. 

26* 



306 CHRISTIAN FRIENDSHIP. 

in my solitary reveries about future pleasures and past 
friendships, really oppresses me. 

' Q,uis dcsiderio sit pudor aut modus 
Tarn cari capitis ? ' " 

In the sermon which he wrote upon Christian friend- 
ship, from the example of Jesus and John, printed in 
the second volume of his Works, Walter seems to have 
been in his mind throughout. An extract from this 
sermon follows : — 

" It is said that friendship is nowhere recommended to 
us in the New Testament. True, it is not; and here, I 
think, is a singular proof of the thorough knowledge which 
our Saviour possessed of the human heart, and especially 
of the virtuous affections. For is it not easy to see that it 
would have been absurd to enjoin particular friendships 
upon any man, as a necessary part of his Christian or 
moral character ? That which is peculiar to this attach- 
ment, as it is distinguished from general good-will, is not 
a thing which depends on a man's voluntary exertions. No 
man can go out into the world and say, ' I will have a 
friend.' This, like other connections in life, depends upon 
circumstances beyond our control. It depends, not merely 
upon a man's generous benevolence of character, but upon 
a fortunate consent of affections, and harmony of interests, 
which a man may live long in the world and not be so 
happy as to meet. It requires such a concert of tastes 
and passions, such a length and frequency of intercourse, 
such a candor and unreservedness of mind, as we may not 
easily find in thousands whom we yet greatly esteem, and 
in many more with whom we are disposed to live on the 
common terms of peace and good neighbourhood. To 
have enjoined, then, a social attachment like this, as a sub- 



CHRISTIAN FRIENDSHIP. 307 

ject of duty, or as an essential obligation on every man, 
whatever may be his circumstances, is an absurdity of 
which Jesus and his disciples could not have been guilty ; 
and yet this omission has been charged upon the friend of 
John and Lazarus, as a defect in his religion. Many, I doubt 
not, are the Christians who have passed through this world 
of frequent changes and various characters, and yet have 
never chanced to meet a real friend. Many more are there 
who have wept over the grave of one long known and loved ; 
but alas ! as they have not the power to awake him from 
his slumbers, so too they have not been so fortunate as ever 
afterwards to replace him. 

" If, my friends, we would practise this virtue (if it must 
be so named) in all its purity, and enjoy our fondest attach- 
ments in perfection, we must call in to our aid the religion 
of Christ. Tell us not of the heroic friendships of ancient 
story, when it was thought generous to sacrifice a whole 
nation for an injury to a friend, and when the duties of this 
attachment were exalted above all other obligations, and 
allowed to break every other tie, and benevolence itself 
was lost in the despotism of private love. Tell us not of 
those modern connections, which demand of us in honor 
to sacrifice one man's life to vindicate another's from false 
imputations ; or of the numerous pitiful unions of wicked 
men for purposes of interest or indulgence, of conviviality 
or temporary convenience. These have as little to do with 
affection as with religion. True Christian regard is as dif- 
ferent from all this as lust from pure love, or bodily strength 
from real courage. The only perfect union of minds is that 
which is animated, corrected, and matured by the evangel- 
ical spirit of Christianity. Why ? Because their faith 
and hopes are not only one through their present destiny, 
but because man has interests and hopes in eternity dearer 
and greater than any temporal well-being; and that union 
of minds into which eternity enters not, and makes no part 



308 CHRISTIAN FRIENDSHIP. 

of their common hopes, must be essentially defective; be- 
cause this idea, rendering the affection which it influences 
more sublime and more animating, must make it superior 
to any temporary union of views and purposes, how many 
years soever may have cemented it. You anticipate the 
company of your friend to-morrow; the Christian not to- 
morrow only, but for ever. 

" Farther. The essential temper of Christianity is self- 
distrust ; and it is the very charm of friendship to love to re- 
pose on another's knowledge and affection. The greatest 
foe of grace is pride ; pride also cannot coexist with generous, 

undisguised, unqualified affection It is also the 

tendency of our religion to exhaust those sources of jealousy 
and distrust which so often embitter our tenderest and dear- 
est connections. A Christian, knowing his own infirmities, 
will not expect too much, even from him he loves best. 
He has none of that pride that takes offence at fancied 
neglects ; and he sees the folly and the sin of requiring 
from another such an illiberal attachment to himself as shall 
confine all his friend's sacrifices to himself arid exclude the 
rest of the world from his attention. It therefore appears 
to me, that, to make friendship perfect, Christianity was neces- 
sary ; because this alone teaches us the sinfulness of wish- 
ing for such a monopoly of affection as is demanded by 
some narrow minds, and is so contrary to the genius of the 
Gospel 

" In fine, where the affection between two minds is not 
influenced by a sense of a present and all-gracious Father 
in heaven ; where they have no communion of mind upon 
the most interesting of human contemplations, God, Jesus, 
and the life to come ; where the tomb, when it has closed 
upon one of them, is thought to have separated them for 
ever; where the all-sanctifying grace of the Gospel does 
not mould their desires, correct and unite their dispositions 
in humility and Christian love, — there may be fondness, there 



CHRISTIAN FRIENDSHIP. 309 

may be momentary satisfaction, there may be partiality, 
but there is no friendship, such as existed between Jesus 
and John ; — such, in fact, as that for which Jesus prayed, 
when he said, 'Holy Father, keep, through thine own 
name, those whom thou hast given me, that they may be 
one, as we are.' 

" My Christian friends, if you have found one who leans 
on your breast, and you are not afraid that he should listen 
to the secrets that disturb it-; if wisdom and virtue have di- 
rected you to him ; if ardent love of truth, generous ac- 
commodation to each other, fear of God, attachment to the 
Gospel of Jesus, and hope of everlasting life, have bound 
you together, — O, cherish such a union of minds ! The 
grace of Jesus Christ will temper every desire of your 
hearts and mellow your affections by the gentle influence 
of his Gospel ; your interests will more closely intertwine 
as you draw nearer to the grave, and become more detached 
from the surrounding distractions of the world ; and the 
tomb, when it closes upon you, shall not separate you ; for, 
as God is true, ' them that sleep with Jesus will God bring 
with him.' Jesus, who once raised a friend from the tomb, 
will not let it close for ever on those who love him, and 
who love like him." 

Three years after, when my brother pronounced the 
oration before the Society of the Phi Beta Kappa, Wal- 
ter was fresh in his memory. There are some, perhaps, 
who can remember the fervent and chastened emotion 
with which he pronounced these words : — 

" Do you want examples of learned Christians ? I could 
not recount them in an age. You need not be told that 

* Learning has borne such fruits, in other days, 
On all her branches ; piety has found 



310 TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF MR. WALTER. 

Friends in the friends of science ; and true prayer 
Has flowed from lips wet with Castalian dews.' * 

" Yes, it has ! We have known and loved such men, 
and, thank God ! have been loved by them. There is now 
present to my mind the image of a scholar, whom some 
of you knew (for he was one of us) ; and those who knew 
him well will say with me, he was as pure a spirit as 
ever tasted the dews of Castalia. How would Walter have 
delighted in this anniversary ! He would have heard me ! 
— me, who am now left to speak of him only, and ask for 
him the tribute, the passing tribute of your grateful recol- 
lection ! He would have heard me ! It may be that he 
hears me now, and is pleased with this tribute. 

' Manibus date lilia plenis; 
Purpureos spargam flores animamque araici 
His saltern aecumulem donis, et fungar inani 
Munere.' " t 

There are other tributes to the memory of Walter 
scattered throughout his papers. Indeed, if the time 
were pointed out when he appeared most happy, most 
worthy of admiration, most radiant with all the riches 
of his nature, it was in the intimate intercourse with 
friends. Then was his fine countenance inspired with 
thoughts and emotions that needed no restraint ; he 
poured out the riches of his imagination, and the hoarded 
treasures of thought, softened by the tenderness and 
perfect reliance of friendship. He had in an eminent 
degree the childlike character of genius ; his naicete 

* Cowper's Task, 
t JEn., Lib. VI. 

" Bring fragrant flowers, the whitest lilies bring, 
With all the purple beauties of the spring; 
On the dear youth, to please his shade below, 
This unavailing gift, at least, I may bestow ! " 

Dryden and Pitt. 



FRIENDS OF BUCKMINSTER. 311 

was understood only by those who regarded him with 
the partiality of friendship. His countenance and man- 
ner reflected with the utmost fidelity his transient and 
passing feelings. He would be suddenly stopped in the 
midst of an animated conversation by a formal or affected 
truism ; he would shrink into himself and silence, at 
the envious or malignant remarks of a selfish person ; 
he felt depressed in the presence of bigotry or hypoc- 
risy. How necessary was it for such a nature to be 
protected by the disinterested observation of friendship ! 
His lively sympathy, when another or himself had given 
pleasure by an intellectual effort, was often mistaken 
for vanity by those who did not understand the peculiar 
simplicity of his character. He would listen with as 
much pleasure to the commendation of his friends after 
any arduous public exhibition, or an effort where much 
had been expected of him, as though it were the first 
he had ever made. Reflecting, as he must always have 
done, upon the certain, and almost at any time possible, 
influence of his well-known malady, he trembled lest 
his friends should discern a confirmation of his own 
ever-whispering warnings in any of his public exhibitions, 
and therefore listened with anxious delight to their hon- 
est praises. He threw himself, as it were, upon the 
sincerity and tenderness of friendship, to guard his repu- 
tation, and to inform him of the first shadow that could 
dim its lustre. Never was confidence in friends met 
with a more generous return. I could scarcely enu- 
merate those who loved him while living, and honored 
his memory with their tears and their eulogy. Among 
the foremost were Thacher, Kirkland, Savage, Nor- 
ton, Lowell, Elliot; and, of those who were younger, 
to whom he looked forward himself as friends of his 



312 DR. KIRKLAND. 

maturer life, — Ticknor, Everett, Palfrey, — it might 
almost have been said of them, as of a bereaved father 
at the loss of his son, that they would not exchange their 
dead friend for others' living ones. 

Perhaps the friend who shared the most of his con- 
fidence, after his return from Europe, was the Rev. 
S. C. Thacher. The strength of their attachment sur- 
vived that which is said to be the severest test of either 
love or friendship, — travelling and voyaging together. 
After their return, no day passed that they did not meet 
in the study of Buckminster, and they usually dined 
together. Their literary efforts w r ere submitted each 
to the supervision of the other ; and they maintained 
the most jealous watch over each other's literary repu- 
tation. Mr. Thacher fulfilled, with exquisite tender- 
ness, taste, and beauty, the duty of surviving friendship, 
in the memoir prefixed to the first volume of " Buckmin- 
ster's Sermons." Their names have since lived united 
in hearts of sensibility, twined together by the fragrant 
wreath with which a kindred genius has bound them.* 

The two friends stood together in the same relation 
to another, whose memory should not be allowed to die 
out of the record of those whose hearts were comforted 
by his kindness, or whose characters were improved by 
his counsels. Dr. Kirkland w 7 as fifteen years older 
than Buckminster, and eleven years his senior in col- 
lege ; Thacher was a year younger, and four years after 
him in the records of Alma Mater : both these young 
men appeared as younger brothers to Dr. Kirkland. 
During all the time which has elapsed since the death 
of the latter, friendship and admiration have not attempted 

* Rev. F. W. P. Greenwood, in his Memoir of Rev. Samuel Coop- 
er Thacher. 



DR. KIRKLAND. 313 

to perpetuate his memory by a selection from his ad- 
mirably wise discourses. Where shall the next genera- 
tion search for memorials of Kirkland, in order to em- 
balm his memory before it shall have faded away ? * 

There are some still living who remember the noble 
and venerable qualities of Dr. Kirkland, — who remem- 
ber how he united, in a beautiful approximation, "the 
kindest affections with the very spirit of wisdom, the 
keenest discernment with the gentlest judgment of human 
infirmities." He was truly a wise man, for wisdom 
is that exercise of the reason into which the heart en- 
ters ; and if any infirmities were discerned in the exer- 
cise of his judgment, they arose from the too large 
proportion of heart which entered in, and perhaps dis- 
turbed the equilibrium of the clearest intellect. His 
insight into character was most penetrating ; he could 
command the nicest dissecting powers, capable of di- 
viding the germs of good which lie in every character 
from the mass of evil with which education and circum- 
stance has involved them. His sarcasm was pungent, 
but his kindness of heart forbade him often to use its di- 
amond point. He saw through the motives of men's 
actions, even before they were themselves aware from 
what point they sprang ; and how often was a young 
person first made acquainted with an unconscious fault 
or foible, by the delicacy of the keen remark that apolo- 
gized for it, or the still keener irony which defended it ! 
He rarely entered into disputation or argument, but 
he saw the whole field of controversy ; and such was 
his gentleness and urbanity, that he seemed to yield 

* Dr. Young's funeral sermon was indeed a tribute of admiration 
and friendship. 

27 



314 DR. KIRKLAN.D. 

to others at the very moment he was leading them to 
clearer views ; and the light that he threw upon a sub- 
ject, bringing his opponent out of his difficulties, seemed 
to the disputant to have arisen in his own mind, and 
he to remain master of the victory which Dr. Kirkland 
had taught him how to win. If hypocrisy and cant 
drew from him a keen sarcasm, cruelty and ingratitude 
excited indignation which sometimes found expression 
in the strongest terms of reprobation and contempt. 
His aphorisms in conversation partook of the mingled 
irony of Rochefoucault and the tender humor of Sterne. 
Could he have condescended to admit the admiration 
of a Boswell, what a rich store of anecdote and shrewd 
remark might have been preserved, as it dropped from 
his lips in the quiet bonhommie of familiar conversation ! 
His character should be drawn by an able and dis- 
criminating pen. May we not hope, that, beside the 
cold and perishable marble, which is now the only me- 
morial of him, we may have a living portrait, drawn by 
the heart-inspired hand of genius, which shall conse- 
, crate his memory in the hearts of those who loved him, 
and make him known to other generations ? 



CHAPTER XVI. 

J. S. BUCKMINSTER. — HIS INTEREST IN PERIODICAL LITERA- 
TURE. AND IN SACRED LITERATURE. BEGINNING OF 

UNITARIAN CONTROVERSY. EXTRACTS FROM SERMONS. 

1808. The year 1808 was one of great activity 

Aged 24. \ n tne ]}f e f i\ ]e son anc i f great interest in 

that of the father. The former begins it by recording 
in his journal his desire to find and reard those books 
that induce to Christian union. Nearly at this period 
began the controversy in the churches which resulted in 
their disunion. He was one of those who as ardently 
desired union as Lord Falkland desired peace in the 
great civil war ; and yet, had he lived, he must inevitably 
have taken his part in the protest which one portion of 
the Church were compelled to make against what they 
considered existing errors. Their protest was not made 
till these errors were beginning to be established, as 
they thought, by being made part of creeds to be sub- 
scribed, contrary to the spirit of freedom in the New 
England churches. 

Mr. Buckminster was now twenty-four years old, the 
age when men are just beginning a course of action 
which is to result in the benefit and improvement of 
their fellow-men. It is with most persons the flowering 
time of life, and according as the bloom is rich and 
abundant will be the beauty and excellence of the fruit 



316 



CHANGES IN SOCIETY. 



in after years. Dr. Charming, who was certainly one 
of the most remarkable men among his contemporaries, 
was settled at twenty-three, and had just begun his 
beneficent work. With Mr. Buckminster, also, it was 
but the beginning of life, and, had he lived to old age, 
he would probably have looked back to the produce 
of these years as but of immature and unripe fruit, — the 
feeble commencement of a future, but abundant, harvest. 
He mentions in his journal being much moved by Mr. 
Channing's sermon upon Ministerial Zeal, at the ordina- 
tion of Mr. John Codman, and records a prayer that 
it may have its proper effect upon his heart. 
/ Both these young men entered upon active life at a 
period when great changes were taking place in the 
community of which they were members. For half a 
century, the active and the educated intellect of the 
country had been absorbed by subjects connected with 
the war of Independence, and the excitement of mind 
produced by the principles of the French Revolution. 
Things had now settled, after the tumult and terror of 
the War. Men felt the security of property ; pros- 
perity, and peace, and leisure made them begin to look 
about them for higher sources of enjoyment than mere- 
ly ostentatious pleasures, or the luxuries of social life. 
The greater part, perhaps, were absorbed in what is said 
to be an exciting occupation, the accumulation of prop- 
erty, adding dollar to dollar, and acre to acre ; but 
there were others, who wished for purer pleasures and 
more elevating enjoyments. To both these young men 
belongs the honor of being leaders in the social move- 
ment which began about this period of time. 

The first change, perhaps, was a new impulse given 
to literature by a new zeal in the acquisition of libra- 



PERIODICAL LITERATURE. 317 

ries, and the regular and systematic importation from 
abroad of periodical literature, monthly publications 
and reviews, and the establishment of reading-rooms 
where they could readily be found, — the importation 
of classical authors, as well as of the current publications 
of the day. Now also began the establishment of re- 
views of our own, magazines of a superior and solid 
character, and the beginning of an expression of an 
opinion of our own upon literary and critical matters, 
instead of an entire reliance upon authority. At this 
time, also, there commenced an interest in what are called 
critical studies, the philosophical and analytical study of 
the classics and the Scriptures. For all these objects 
Mr. Buckminster felt the warmest attachment, and the 
last was his favorite and most especial pursuit. 

The fortunate circumstance of a pecuniary bequest 
from his maternal grandfather, Dr. Stevens, — who, from 
a salary of a hundred pounds, laid up some thousands 
of dollars, which were husbanded, during his grandson's 
minority, by the most faithful of guardians, Judge Sew- 
all, of York, — enabled him, as soon as it came into his 
hands, to indulge an innocent passion, by the importation 
of English books. While he was at Exeter, he had, 
with great trouble, contrived to obtain the Monthly Re- 
view, usually receiving six or twelve numbers at one 
time. His chief occupation in Paris was collecting 
with great care and diligence a library of choice books, 
connected with his favorite studies ; in the purchase of 
which, he spent nearly all his little fortune. He thus 
remarks upon this expenditure in a letter to his father : — 
" If I should be cut off from the use of these luxuries 
of the mind, they will be a treasure to (hose who suc- 
27* 



318 TERIODICAL LITERATURE. 

ceed me, like the hoards of a miser scattered after his 
death." 

This library of three thousand volumes was unique* 
in its character, such as few of his profession could 
then have profitably employed, though they could ap- 
preciate its value ; and it was always as accessible for 
the use of his brethren in the profession as for his own. 
It was certainly characteristic of his devotion to his 
favorite studies, that, while his library at that time was 
more valuable than that of any private individual in 
Boston, the furniture of his parsonage, and his estab- 
lishment of domestic luxuries, were frugal almost to the 
degree of inconvenience. 

The second object of public interest, in which he took 
a most active part, was the publication of periodical lit- 
erature. He was one of the principal promoters of the 
Literary Miscellany, a monthly magazine, conductecfV* 
by gentlemen who were his immediate friends. The 
first number was published in July, 1803, and in this 
was printed the first production of his pen which was 
given to the press, a review of u Millar's Retrospect 
of the Eighteenth Century." This Miscellany enjoyed 
but the short life of one year, and was succeeded by 
the Monthly Anthology, of which a full account has 
been given in other pages. Ten volumes of the An- 
thology were published, in all of which there were pro- 
ductions of more or less value from his pen. In 1812, 
this was worthily succeeded by the General Repository 
and Review, edited by Mr. Norton. This was intended 
as the vehicle of learned discussions and responsible 
reviews The writer cannot, of course, speak of the 

* See Appendix. 



griesbach's greek testament. 319 

merit of the long article from her brother's pen, in the 
second number, — the translation of a learned paper in 
Schleusner's Lexicon, occupying twenty-one sheets of 
letter-paper in his handwriting. It shows that he must 
have nearly left the sweet and varied walks of general 
literature for the thorny paths of learned criticism. 

In this year, 1808, he engaged, in conjunction with 
his friend, Mr. William Wells, and under the patronage 
of the University of Cambridge, in the publication of 
Griesbach's Greek Testament, containing a selection of 
the most important various readings. This work passed 
under his most careful revision, in the course of which 
several errors in the original were discovered and cor- 
rected. 

Mr. William Wells, the publisher of Griesbach, 
w 7 rites : — 

" The last proofs of the Cambridge edition of the Greek 
Testament were revised by him, and this contributed greatly 
to its extreme correctness. Not the smallest mark or ac- 
cent escaped his penetrating eye, and his accuracy often 
excited much surprise in the printing office. He was ac- 
tive in the publication and distribution of Unitarian books 
and tracts, and contributed largely to these objects from his 
own resources, as well as from funds supplied by his 
friends. 

" I believe that the American edition of Griesbach may 
be safely said not to yield the palm of accuracy to any 
which has been published in Europe." 

A letter to him from a clergyman in England says : — 

" I envy the American press the honor of being the first to 
reprint that valuable edition ; and the more, as a pocket 
edition of the Greek Testament is now printing in England, 



3*30 griesbach's greek testament. 

from Griesbach's second edition, which will therefore want 
the corrections of the author, which are inserted in your 
German edition. Yours does infinite credit to the American 
press." 

" Proposals were also issued for a supplementary volume 
to Griesbach, to contain an English translation of the Prole- 
gomena to his large critical edition, the authorities for his 
variations from the received text, and some dissertations, 
original and selected, on subjects connected with the criti- 
cism of the Bible. Some progress was made in preparing 
this work by Mr. Buckminster and one of his friends, but, 
as he did not give his name to the proposals, they did not 
receive sufficient encouragement to induce him to persevere. 
In 1810, he formed the plan of publishing all the best mod- 
ern versions of the prophetical books of the Old Testament. 
He proposed to use the version of Bishop Lowth for Isaiah, 
with the various renderings of Dodson and Stock in the 
margin where they differ from Lowth. The major proph- 
ets were to be completed by Blayney's version of Jeremiah 
and Lamentations, Newcome's version of Ezekiel, and 
Wintle's of Daniel, with Blayney's of the Seventy Weeks. 
Newcome's translation of the minor prophets was to have 
followed, with variations from Horseley's Hosea, Benjoin's 
Jonah, and Blayney's Zechariah. After this, he hoped to 
have been able to give an additional volume, containing the 
most important notes and preliminary dissertations to the 
several books. The whole design, however, I am almost 
ashamed to say, failed, for want of a sufficient taste for 
these studies among our countrymen." * 

Of another and more important change, affecting the 
relation of the churches to each other and to society, 
the introduction of views of Christian doctrine differing 

* Thacher's Memoir. 



CHURCHES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 321 

from those of the first Puritan churches, the writer con- 
ceives that this is not the place to speak, except so far as 
the suhjects of these memoirs were concerned in them. 
Every one the least acquainted with our ecclesiastical 
history must be aware that there had been, from the 
time of the establishment of Brattle Street Church in 
Boston, a gradual relaxation from the strict Calvinism 
of our fathers. Certainly that church, when it agreed 
to omit all relation of religious experiences, as unessen- 
tial to admission, made as large an advance towards 
liberality as has been, at any one step, effected since. 
It is known to those who are moderately well informed 
on this subject, that, about the middle of the last cen- 
tury, a change became apparent in the views of many 
of the clergy of New England, touching those doc- 
trines that had been deemed essential, and were usually 
considered orthodox. This change was gradual, and 
almost imperceptible. It did not amount at once to 
the adoption of distinct anti-trinitarian conceptions, but 
the tenets of strict Calvinism lost their hold upon 
the minds of ministers and people, and the orthodox 
creed was embraced with great reservations. Some of 
the prominent ministers of the churches were called 
" Arminians," " moderate Calvinists," u Arians." 
Had not political events, and the exigencies of the 
struggle for independence, absorbed the whole of the 
educated mind of the country, it seems as though that 
division in the churches must have inevitably taken 
place then, which was postponed half a century. 

The change in theological opinion has been as gradual 
as most other changes, and the result of free inquiry has 
been a new growth, the healthful development from the 
deep roots of the tree of life. Calvinism lost its hold 



o'2'2 LETTER OF DR. BUCKMINSTER 

upon the minds of the laity quite as soon as it failed 
to satisfy their ministers. " It had died down to the 
roots," as a late writer observes, " before the axe had 
touched it." The evidences of its powerless and in- 
operative state were lamented by its friends before more 
simple and evangelical views of the religion of Christ 
brought back the revolted mind of the churches to the 
doctrines of the Bible, rather than to those of Calvin. 

The following letter, written by Dr. Buckminster 
fifty years ago, in answer to one from Dr. Morse, la- 
menting the falling off of the ministers from orthodox 
preaching, confesses, also, that the doctrines of Calvin 
affright the people and empty the churches. It dis- 
closes a state of things which is not generally acknowl- 
edged by either party, — that the people took the lead in 
liberal views, and would not listen to Calvinistic 
preaching. 

" I lament the state of things to which it -appears to me 
a departure from true evangelical principles, and a silence 
respecting the peculiarly humbling, awakening, and affecting 
doctrines of the Gospel, in the public teachers of it, have 

contributed their full share Is it not too true that 

ministers leave the humiliating state of man as a fallen and 
apostate creature, his helplessness and danger, the glorious 
character of Christ as a Divine person, the special influences 
of the Spirit, the necessity of regeneration, and the awful 
prospects of the impenitent and unbelieving, out of their 
public discourses, and fill them with philosophical disquisi- 
tions, moral essays, and popular harangues? I don't know 
but many may do this from an honest, but, in my view, 
very erroneous apprehension, that it will serve to remove 
the objections of some amiable moral characters', and con- 
ciliate them to the Gospel. But what advantage is it to 



TO DR. MORSE. 323 

conciliate them to a Gospel that is not the Gospel of Christ, 
and fails of the energies necessary to make them holy and 
happy ? It appears to me the charges and descriptions, 
contained in that most excellent treatise of Mr. Wilberforce, 
are as applicable to us as to the country for which he 
wrote. Defects in principle are more dangerous and de- 
structive than in practice. They are like a disease at the 
heart. A diseased limb may be amputated ; a stream pol- 
luted by accidental filth in its channel may be easily 
cleansed ; but where the fountain is impure, all labor upon 
the stream will be wholly thrown away. The fountain must 
be cleansed, the heart must be healed. If ministers are 
really concerned and distressed, and would seek a remedy, 
they must return in their preaching to the terrors of the 
law and the grace of the Gospel ; they must preach the 
plain doctrines of revelation, and with boldness and candor 
address to the consciences of men the awful and the alluring 
motives therein contained ; and represent sin, as it is most 
clearly represented in the Gospel, as such an evil that noth- 
ing short of the interposition of a Df vine person could atone 
its guilt or remove its malignant effects. Many persons ap- 
prehend that such preaching would affright people from the 
Gospel, and empty our churches and religious assemblies at 
once. Duty is ours, events are God's. We must preach 
the preaching that God bids us, and appeal to the law and 
to the testimony. The truth sanctifies ; error may please, 
but it cannot profit. 

" But is there nothing to be done by us ? we may ask. 
Those who fear God must speak often to one another upon 
the things of God, and pray most earnestly for themselves 
and brethren ; and, as the high priest always offered for 
his own sins before he did for the sins of the people, would 
it not be commendable for us ministers to have days of 
private social fasting, and let them be spent as days of real 
humiliation and not of conviviality ? Might not association 



3"24 THE CHARGE OF CONCEALMENT OF OPINIONS. 

meetings be so improved ? After this, we might with 
greater confidence and hope of success have more public 
seasons of prayer, following up our devotions with the spirit 
of divine things in all our commerce with the world. 

" Dear Sir, I should need to make an apology for the 
freedom with which I have written, did it not afford the 
strongest proof of the entire confidence I have in you, as 
a faithful, sincere, and experienced servant of Jesus Christ. 
May God be with you and your brethren, and direct you 
in the subject of your inquiries, the result of which I shall 
be obliged to you to communicate to your friend and 
brother, 

" J. Bl"CK3IIXSTER. 
"April 24th, 1799/' 

The above letter was written fifty years ago. Does 
it not imply that ministers had ceased to preach the 
humiliating doctrines, that is, the doctrines of Calvin- 
ism, and that, in the opinion of one who retained this 
faith, it was because they would " affright people, and 
empty at once the churches and religious assemblies " ? 
[t is more honorable to all the ministers of Boston and 
the vicinity, and probably more true, that they had ceased 
to believe in Calvinism, and therefore ceased to preach 
it. It would be invidious, and, with all the light 
thrown upon the last fifty years, it would be unjust, to 
say that any continued to believe in Calvinism, and con- 
cealed their faith because it would empty their churches. 
But, as it has been so often asked why those whose 
faith in orthodoxy was shaken did not come forward at 
once and make confession, may we not with equal perti- 
nence ask, why did not Calvinists, who continued such, 
assert their sentiments previous to the conclusion of the 
last century, and in the beginning of this ? One of their 



PURITAN INFLUENCES. 325 

own number says they did not, and we are justified in 
saying, either that they concealed their sentiments for 
fear of emptying their churches, or that Calvinism had 
lost its hold upon the societies, and that it was only 
as the faith of a party that its spirit was resuscitated. 

Of the younger subject of this memoir, it is well 
known that his earliest years were spent under the in- 
fluences of Calvinism ; and, however its stern features 
may have been softened by the mingling with them of the 
aspect of paternal love, that form of religion was asso- 
ciated with all his tender youthful feelings of devotion. 
Whoever has passed the early part of life in New Eng- 
land can hardly fail to look back upon some one of his 
ancestors, a descendant of those " strong-hearted and 
God-fearing " Puritans, who has been to him the vener- 
able type of Calvinistic religion, — some one who looked 
with sad or stern displeasure upon all innovation on 
the Genevan formulas, and upon all relaxation of the 
Puritan discipline of life. Conscientious and faithful to 
his first convictions, the morning and evening came to 
him burdened with prayers for the sins and follies which 
he saw everywhere around him. His belief in the total 
depravity of his fellow-men, and of his own children, 
was strangely at variance with the tenderness of his 
heart, and the indulgence of his hopefulness. He af- 
firmed that the grace of God alone could change the 
disposition to evil, and impart a saving faith ; and yet the 
necessity of religious culture was perpetually reiterated, 
and precept upon precept was followed by line upon line. 

It was under such influences that religion descended 

like the dew upon Joseph's childhood, and opened in 

his heart the blossoms of a spiritual faith, and a tender, 

childlike piety. Calvinism could never have made him 

28 



326 CHANGE OF RELIGIOUS OPINIONS. 

gloomy, nor Puritanism bigoted and ascetic. But as 
soon as he began, in preparation for his profession, a 
careful, impartial, and critical study of the Scriptures, 
without seeking in them for the support of previously 
received opinions, he found that he could not discover 
in them that theology which had been the support and 
solace of so many hearts among his ancestors. While 
studying at Exeter, he seems to have rejected the doc- 
U'ine of total innate depravity, and other tenets connected 
with it ; and although the doctrine of the Trinity was ap- 
proached with caution and reluctance, yet, at the age of 
nineteen, he writes thus to his father : — " I have em- 
ployed almost every day since my return from Ports- 
mouth in reading the most orthodox works upon the 
Trinity, — Edwards, Jamieson, Ridgely, etc.; and, 
from what I know of the state of my own mind, I de- 
spair of ever giving my assent to the proposition that 
Jesus Christ is God, equal to the Father. I have been 
thus explicit, that, whatever may be my future lot, I may 
still retain the consciousness of having preferred the re- 
linquishment of every prospect of fame or preferment to 
the slightest evasion or hypocrisy upon subjects deemed 
by you so important." 

His continued study upon this and kindred subjects 
resulted certainly in a wide departure from strict Cal- 
vinism. He rejected all connection with the tenets of 
Socinus. Socinianism, which admits of no spiritual aid 
in the perfect obedience to law which it demands, could 
have no attraction for a mind so early imbued with a 
devout longing for an intimate communion with God. 
He became afterwards thoroughly acquainted with the 
writings of English Unitarians ; and he felt unbounded 
respect for those honest men, and noble confessors, 



DOCTRINAL OPINIONS. 327 

who, for conscience' sake, gave up all worldly advance- 
ment. He admired their philanthropy, and sympathized 
with their efforts to harmonize Scripture, reason, and 
common sense ; yet he did not belong to them. It does 
not appear that he wholly sympathized with any one 
of the divisions by which Christians were classed at 
the beginning of this century. He endeavoured to vin- 
dicate those views which satisfied his own earnest efforts 
after truth, and he was ready to cooperate with all who 
strove to advance a spiritual piety, and an elevated 
standard of morals, and a sincere adoption of ct the new 
commandment " of love. Extracts which will be given 
from some few of his sermons, upon points of doctrine, 
will show in what views his studies had resulted at the 
early period of his death. The labor which he devoted 
to anxious inquiries was uncheered by sympathy from 
his father ; and he had the additional sorrow of finding 
that the results of his study placed him in painful an- 
tagonism to that revered friend of his youth. 

At the period of his settlement, and even at his 
death, there had been no outward and marked division 
in the churches. In the Congregational churches of 
Massachusetts there had been no uniform confession of 
faith. Neither the churches nor the ministers were 
amenable to any tribunal, and the spirit of Congrega- 
tionalism had left every minister at liberty to gather his 
sentiments and opinions from the only rule of faith, a 
conscientious study of the word of God. The differ- 
ences of opinion, which must necessarily exist among 
men who think for themselves, had not arisen to such a 
height as to form schisms or separations of churches. 
Trinitarians, Arminians, Calvinists, Hopkinsians, and 
Baptists united in acts of Christian fellowship. At or- 



328 CHANGE IN THEOLOGICAL OPINIONS 

dinations and councils, Dr. Morse and Dr. Channing, 
Dr. Osgood and Dr. Kirkland, sat side by side, and 
were associated in apparent harmony together. This 
has since been called a deceitful show of union, involv- 
ing a disingenuous concealment of opinions, arising from 
a spirit of indifference to the purity of doctrine, and an 
attachment to worldly advantages. To some minds, it 
may seem to have been a prudent and generous accom- 
modation to the spirit of brotherly love, and that it did 
as much honor to the ministers of Massachusetts as any- 
thing in their history. While, to some, it may appear 
that the true doctrines of the Church were sacrificed in 
such freedom, others will be persuaded that the spirit of 
Christian fellowship, and the only true Gospel influences, 
were advanced ; and that, if dogmas and polemics were 
kept in abeyance, ministers and people became better 
Christians. 

It was certainly honorable to those who thus accorded, 
that they considered the things in which ihey agreed as 
of more importance than those in which they differed, 
and as being a sufficient ground of Christian communion. 
It was thought, also, at that time, that a man might be 
sincere, if erroneous, and capable of teaching that 
which, with God's blessing, would save men's souls, if 
he did not acknowledge as infallible truth all the so-called 
doctrines of the Reformation. And this honor attaches 
to all parties ; for each minister seems secretly to have 
determined, " I will not be the first to open a schism. 
I will stand fast in the liberty wherewith Christ has 
made me free, and those who abridge this liberty are 
the only sectarians." 

It has been made a frequent subject of reproach, 
especially at the present time, against those who re- 



IN THE CHURCHES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 329 

jected the doctrines of orthodoxy, among whom the 
younger subject of this memoir is recognized, that they 
did not come out and make proclamation of their opin- 
ions upon certain points, and of their disagreement 
with the dogmas of Calvin. What has just been said 
seems a sufficient answer. They were amenable to no 
one for their opinions. These opinions were formed 
with slow, anxious, and painful study, and there was no 
moment in the process of their laborious investigation 
that any one had a right to demand a confession from 
them of their progress or their conclusions. They 
were accountable to their own consciences only, which 
required them to preach what they believed, no*t what 
they did not believe. Then, parishes, as we have seen, 
were sometimes in advance of the ministers, and, in 
many cases, more liberal than they. From the peculiar 
bitterness of theological divisions, it could not be hoped 
that such a state of things would long continue. When, 
after the death of Eckley, and Emerson, and Buckmin- 
ster, those who had departed from the faith of Calvin 
were placed in antagonism with their brethren, they 
were sufficiently ready to defend themselves and their 
position ; but that was after the period with which these 
memoirs have any concern. 

The only public hostility which Mr. Buckminster en- 
countered was a severe attack upon a small collection of 
hymns prepared for the use of the Brattle Street Church. 
The reviewer charged him with unauthorized alterations, 
for the purpose of suppressing certain doctrines. The 
hymns were adapted to particular subjects of discourses, 
and intended to supply the deficiencies of Tate and 
Brady's version ; and it has been mentioned in another 
page of this memoir that the compiler took them from 
28* 



330 LETTER TO MR. BELSHAM. 

Dr. Kippi's selection, and was ignorant that any altera- 
tion had been made in them. In writing to Rev. Mr. 
Belsliam, of England, at this time, he speaks thus of the 
state of religion in Boston : — 

"December 5th, 1809. 

" The most exclusive spirit of Calvinism seems now re- 
viving, and perhaps gaining ground, in Boston. I have been 
exposed to some of its deadliest shafts in consequence of a 
little collection of hymns, unorthodox, not heterodox, which 
I have made for the use of my society. However, we shall 
stand our ground very firmly in Boston. There is no place 
on the face of the globe where so much attention is paid 
to ministers by all ranks, especially by the most enlightened. 
Those very men who, in New York and Philadelphia, would 
probably be unbelievers because they could not be Calvin- 
ists, are, among us in Boston, rational Christians, — the most 
constant supporters of public worship, the most intimate 
friends of the clergy, and not a few of them professors of 
religion. Our only danger is in our security and strength. 
' In such an hour as we think not, sudden destruction may 
come upon us,' but I think there is a root of rationality and 
soberness in Boston, which, with God's blessing, can never 
fail to spring up and flourish here, except by the culpable 
indifference of its cultivators 

" I am in general much pleased with Macknight. I need 
not tell you that the great difficulty in Paul's Epistles lies 
in about half a dozen words. If I could settle their mean- 
ing, I should bless God all the rest of my life. 
" Yours, with the highest regard, 

" J. S. BUCKMINSTER." 

Dr. Eckley, the venerable pastor of the Old South 
Church, died in April, 1811 ; and it was in the follow- 
ing terms that the pastor of Brattle Street, who was 
counted in the van of the advocates of liberal views, 
spoke of him the Sabbath after his interment : — 



CHARACTER OF DR. ECKLEY. 331 

" When the image of Dr. Eckley rises to my thoughts, 
I cannot for a moment suspect that the regard shown to 
his memory was the dictate of form, or a tribute to office 
or to age. No ; it was the tribute which virtue pays to virtue, 
which friendship pays to friendship. It was the language 
of undisguised affection and esteem. It was the homage 
which the community, even when most corrupt, will always 
pay to a heart of whose goodness it is sure. True, he was 
a faithful minister ; but he was also a faithful man ; he was 
respected and loved in every place, as well as in his office. 

" Those who were his coevals and his long-tried associ- 
ates bear witness to his faithfulness, and the disinterested- 
ness of his friendships. Those of us who were younger 
in the ministry, and who could not be expected to form 
those close intimacies which was the privilege of those 
who knew him early, yet cannot speak of his worth with- 
out ardent wishes that it had pleased God to continue him 
longer to us. His desire to preserve a Christian fellow- 
ship, and the most liberal intercourse with his brethren, was 
too well known to be doubted, and cannot be remembered 
without gratitude and admiration. Every day made his 
life valuable to us as a friend and father, a mediator in 
our profession. He had no bitterness ; no uncharitable- 
ness ; no desire for spiritual authority ; no symptoms of 
religious pride ; no tendencies to an exclusive system of 
Christianity. He was indeed a man. who loved the re- 
ligion of Christ wherever it existed, and who loved a good 
man in whatever denomination he found him. He had 
the reputation of what is often called orthodox theology ; 
and the character of his early preaching, and the nature 
of his early connections, had contributed to establish the 
opinion of his being attached to a creed more dogmatical 
than was received by many of his contemporaries and suc- 
cessors in the ministry. But he always evinced a most 
amiable anxiety to manifest his superiority to those prin- 



332 



CHARACTER OF DR. ECKLEY. 



ciples of exclusion and separation which some men think 
are the natural consequences of his belief. I do not be- 
lieve that the mere circumstance of speculative dissent ever 
alienated his mind from a single human being, or quenched 
the warmth of his ministerial attachment to his brethren. 
He abhorred a selfish spirit in religion as well as in com- 
mon life. Would to God that his spirit might descend upon 
us in all its generosity and purity ! for as long as the 
remembrance of him remains among his brethren in the 
ministry, they will not want a standard of Catholicism by 
which they may ascertain what spirit they are of. 

" There was also a great simplicity and openness, as well 
as purity of character, in Dr. Eckley, which was character- 
istic of a Christian, in whom there should be no guile. He 
was a man who had no hidden and private purposes to serve, 
and you could always put trust in him without anxiety; 
and I may safely appeal to you all for the general impres- 
sion which prevailed of his integrity and candor; — an im- 
pression which is never delusive, and which no man can 
preserve through a life of such length as his, without de- 
serving the character he has gained. This is that honest 
testimony which public and private sentiment pays to a 
man of real worth, which is the true reflection of the testi- 
mony of a man's own conscience, and is worth more 
than all the eulogies of orators and all the forms of 
mourning 

" In short, Dr. Eckley seems to me to have been one of 
those men whose loss it is extremely difficult to supply. He 
filled a place which few men are so happy as to hold, or 
to be able to fill, between the extremes into which minis- 
ters, who are of like passions with other men, are contin- 
ually rushing. It was impossible not to respect him ; and 
many, many will confess with a sigh, that they loved him, 
— they were not prepared to lose him ; and his affection- 
ate spirit was fled before we could bid it farewell ; and long, 



VARIETIES OF RELIGIOUS OPINION. 333 

long will it be before we can replace him ! It would have 
been grateful to us to witness the disposition of his mind 
while departing, — to have received his parental regards, — 
to have expressed our respect and affection to so advanced 
and worthy a brother ; but God, in whose hands are the 
issues of life, determined otherwise, and we know that He 
is wise and gracious, and that He has some good purpose to 
serve by this truly afflictive dispensation. He is gone to his 
long home, and the mourners go about the streets ; yet thy 
presence, O God, has gone with him and given him rest ! " 

There was felt, by the older ministers of the Boston 
Association, — by Dr. Eckley, Dr. Lathrop, and Dr. 
Osgood, — the greatest reluctance to break the ancient 
harmony of the churches. As each one had formed 
his opinions through a sincere desire for truth, guiding 
his search in the Scriptures, they were unwilling to in- 
sist upon any other centre of union, or any other standard 
of truth, except the Scriptures. As Calvinism was re- 
nounced, different aspects of dissent appeared, accord- 
ing to the character of each mind in which it had lost 
its authority. In some, as an intellectual protest against 
incomprehensible doctrines ; in others, as a plea against 
dogmatism ; and in many, as a desire for a more simple, 
and spiritual, and reasonable faith. There was but one 
point upon which the liberal party were united, — the re- 
jection of the doctrine of the Trinity ; to admit the per- 
sonal Godhead of Christ was to them impossible. Upon 
no other subject couldthey have agreed in an issue. Up- 
on the doctrines of the atonement, the supernatural influ- 
ences of the Spirit, the inspiration of the Scriptures, 
so much did they differ, that they probably would not 
have held together. On these subjects, some of the 
liberal party would have been found, at the time of 



334 



ON THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 



which we speak, on the side of orthodoxy. How futile, 
then, is the charge against them, that they concealed 
their sentiments because they were not prepared for 
acts of decision ! Both parties deprecated that religious 
warfare which would estrange parish from parish, broth- 
er from brother, and bring into the tenderest hearts the 
most acute distress. But, now that it is passed, every 
one must acknowledge that the area of the warfare has 
been enriched. A more thorough and critical investi- 
gation of the Scriptures is demanded ; a deeper and 
more fervently religious spirit is cultivated in all the 
churches ; and a more general knowledge of theology 
and kindred subjects pervades the whole community. 

Some extracts from unpublished manuscript sermons 
follow ; — and here it should be distinctly remarked, that 
although Mr. Buckminster is ranked, and justly, among 
Unitarians, yet he never took the name upon him- 
self, nor used it as a distinctive term, significant of his 
own faith. He was not a sectarian in feeling, nor a 
controversialist in practice. He possessed nothing of 
the odium theologicum, which has sometimes shown it- 
self since his death. Those who belong to opposite 
parties in the Church, though they may differ from the 
conclusions to which he came in applying the rules 
of criticism to the interpretation of the sacred writers, 
have ever done justice to the candor and honesty of 
mind displayed in his critical and theological discus- 
sions. 

"ON THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 

" ' The Christ, the Son of the living God.' — Mat. xvi. 16. 

" When we receive Jesus as the Christ, we receive him 
as he has himself repeatedly explained the character, and 



RELIGIOUS OPINIONS. 335 

as it is announced in the prophecies to which he has him- 
self appealed ; — as the Son of God ; the Holy One of God ; 
the Sent of God ; the Anointed, the Sanctified of God ; — in 
short, to comprise in one expression of our Saviour's the 
whole of the sentiment contained in the reception of Jesus 
as the Christ, it is to honor the Son as he honors the Father ; 
his authority and that of the Father is, to the Christian, co- 
incident and identical. 

" In this explanation of that article of faith on which all 
our Christianity is built, there appears to me nothing am- 
biguous or difficult. To receive Jesus as the Christ, it is 
neither necessary that we should understand the concep- 
tions of that character as they existed in the minds of the 
Jews, nor that we should know the whole signification of 
the meaning included in the phrase ' Son of God ' ; but that 
we should take the explanations, as far as we can under- 
stand them, which our Lord himself has given us of his 
character, and receive him as clothed with the authority of 
God. Let me but know, let me be convinced, that any sen- 
timent, law, promise, or declaration is Christ's, and it is to 
me, a Christian, the word of God, — the word of the Father 
which the Son has revealed. 

" Among those who have no doubt of the truth of our 
religion, and who claim to be its supporters, great diversity 
of opinion prevails as to the person of Jesus Christ. You 
will find many making the Son of God not their teacher, 
their leader, their model, and their judge, but a kind of inter- 
mediate protection, a screen from the justice of the Father. 
They are ready to receive him as a propitiation, a security, 
a sacrifice, a substitute ; as one on whose mercy they repose 
to shelter them from the fury of the Deity ; but not as the 
King whose laws they ought to obey, whose spirit they 
must imbibe, and whose steps they must follow. They rep- 
resent to themselves Jesus as one who has suffered all the 
punishment due to the sinner, and whose righteousness 



336 ON THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 

is to be imputed to them. His blood, the} 7 imagine, has 
washed them from their pollutions, and his sufferings have 
paid an infinite satisfaction for their sins. As Jesus is, in 
their opinion, the Infinite and Almighty Deliverer, they 
seem to think, that, if by a single act of faith they have 
got him upon their side, they have no more to fear, and 
are released from the penalties which their iniquities de- 
serve. I hope, my Christian hearers, that I need not 
caution you against these abuses, or tell you that, whatever 
may be the personal dignity of your Saviour, you cannot 
attain to final salvation without repentance for your sins, 
a pure faith in his religion, and true, steadfast, unreserved 
obedience to his Gospel. 

" What, then, is the idea that the sincere and intelligent 
Christian entertains of Jesus Christ, — he who confesses with 
his whole heart that he is the Christ, the Son of the living 
God ? He does not perplex himself with fruitless inquiries 
into the precise nature of that relation which subsisted be- 
tween Jesus on earth and the Supreme Deity ; he does not 
disturb his mind with endeavouring to explain the manner 
in which he was the Son of God, nor the precise boundaries 
between his nature and that of the Father. No ; it is to 
him of much more importance to ascertain the relation in 
which Jesus stands to himself, — what Jesus is to him and he 
to Jesus. He receives without difficulty the declaration 
which Jesus has made of himself as the only-begotten Son 
of the Highest ; he views him as enjoying the most intimate 
union with the Deity, full of his energy and spirit ; his visi- 
ble likeness on earth ; the express image, among men, of the 
Supreme, whom no mortal eye hath seen, or can see. He 
receives him as the expected object of ancient prediction, 
ordained to appear, to diffuse blessings and life over the 
world. He who knows him, knows the Father. He who 
honors him, honors the Father who sent him. To the faith- 
ful Christian, Jesus is the restorer of human integrity and 



REGENERATION. 337 

happiness ; able to reform and to lead us to God. Fie is 
the Mediator who brings us nearer to God ; and proclaims 
the peace and pardon, and imparts the blessings of the New 
Covenant. He is the Deliverer from sin and death ; the Sa- 
viour ; the Prince of Life. The Christian looks to him as 
the great leader, whose steps he is to follow, whose char- 
acter he is to resemble, whose decision he is to await. He 
looks to him as the head of the Christian community, to 
whom all authority is committed, to whom is due entire 
submission and obedience, and who will become wisdom 
and righteousness, sanctification and redemption to those 
who will obey him. He is indeed, like Thomas, on the 
recognition of the Saviour, ready to exclaim, ' My Lord and 
my God ! ' " 

"UPON REGENERATION. 

" ' Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God. 
John iii. 3. 

" It is not enough, Nicodemus, that you should visit me 
in the secresy of the night to declare your belief in my 
Divine authority ; for except a man be born again, of water 
and of the Holy Spirit, — except you openly profess my re- 
ligion and your heart be transformed into the spirit of my 
Gospel, — you cannot be a subject of the kingdom I am about 
to establish 

" Nicodemus, either intentionally or ignorantly misunder- 
standing our Saviour, supposes him to mean a repetition of 
man's natural birth. ' How can a man be born,' says he, 
f when he is old ? ' This mistake leads our Saviour to ex- 
plain with more particularity the nature and course of the 
moral change, or new birth. ' The wind bloweth where 
it listeth and thou nearest the sound thereof, but canst 
not tell whence it cometh, nor whither it goeth : so is every 
one that is born of the Spirit.' The changes and revolu- 
tions of the human mind mock the eye of sense in their 
progress. They are known only by their effects. The 
29 



338 REGENERATION. 

operations of God's Spirit, — the influence of causes that 
change the whole character, that produce a revolution like 
that of a new birth, are silent as the wheels of time. You 
hear not its footsteps, you see not its passing form, but the 
effects are momentous and eternal. Your mind is raised 
to a purer atmosphere ; your thoughts reach a more exalted 
height ; you better understand your relation to God and 
Christ, and the holy duties that result from your new birth. 
" Look back, my hearers, upon your lives, and observe 
the numerous opinions that you have adopted and dis- 
carded, the numerous attachments you have formed and 
forgotten, and recollect how imperceptible were the revo- 
lutions of your sentiments, how quiet the changes of your 
affections. Perhaps, even now, your minds may be passing 
through some interesting processes, your pursuits may be 
taking some new direction, and your character may soon ex- 
hibit to the world some unexpected transformation. Compare 
with this the spiritual regeneration of the heart. So is 
every one that is born of the Spirit. Perhaps the following 
may not be an imperfect description of the. process that 
takes place in a mind which is the subject of a radical con- 
version. The motion of the wind is unseen, its effects are 
visible ; the trees bend and fields are laid waste ; though 
the altering sentiments and affections are unnoticed, the al- 
tered character obtrudes itself upon our observation. Truths, 
before contemplated without concern, now seize the mind 
with a grasp too firm to be shaken. The world which is 
to succeed the present is no longer a subject of accidental 
thought, of wavering belief, or lifeless speculation : a region 
to which no tie binds us, and which no curiosity leads us 
to explore. To the regenerated mind, the character and 
condition of man appears in a new, an interesting light. 
To a being whose existence has but just commenced, 
death is only a boundary, a line, that marks off the first, 
the smallest portion of existence. Earth with her retinue 



REGENERATION. 339 

of allurements, her band of fascinating syrens, exclaims, 
* We have lost our hold on this man ! He is no longer ours ! ■ 
Religion welcomes her new adherent ; she beckons him 
to turn his steps into a new, a pleasanter path ; and God him- 
self looks down from heaven with complacency and love, 
illuminating his track by the light of his countenance, mark- 
ing the first step he takes in religion, and supporting him by 
the staff of his grace, the aid of his Holy Spirit 

■•' 2d. But what means does the Spirit of God use to 
effect this regeneration, to form this character, to cherish 
this life of God in the soul of man ? On this subject much 
has been spoken and written mystically, much unintel- 
ligibly, much absurdly, and much falsely. It has been 
said, with daring impiety, that the more profligate, profane, 
and corrupted the character, the more probable is its regen- 
eration, that God may show to an astonished world what 
wonders his grace can effect. Every age has been deluded 
with accounts of the physical and mechanical operations 
of the Spirit, so that we should probably suppose it to be 
some subtle fluid, instantaneous and irresistible in its effects. 
But in the whole course of Scripture history, comparing a 
period of thousands of years, not an instance can be found 
of the use of violent means for the production of a merely 
moral change. Should the conversion of Paul be alleged, 
as it ever is, to support the cause of enthusiasm, let it once 
for all be considered that it is a solitary instance, and in an 
age abounding with miracles ; and secondly, that the public 
and instantaneous change of such a man, who was an enemy 
to the faith, added to the weight of testimony in favor of 
Christianity a wonderful fact, which cannot be accounted 
for except in supposition of the truth of the history of Jesus, 
and it thus gives a peculiar propriety to the mode of conver- 
sion in this case 

" But as long as it is easier to fall down in swoons, to 
start in convulsions, and to groan in distress, than to reno- 



340 REGENERATION. 

vaie and purify the heart, — as long as it is possible to gain 
belief to professions of an instantaneous change without 
showing the gradual operation of the Spirit in the progres- 
sive reformation, increasing holiness and goodness, of the 
character, — so long will the cause of Christ be dishonored, 
the minds of the good disturbed, and the ear of the infi- 
del delighted, by pious delusions and solemn extrava- 
gances 

"'Sanctify us by thy truth ; thy word is truth, ' says the 
Gospel. ' Those who are born again,' says Peter, ' are born 
not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the word 
of God.' At this word the proudest hearts have bowed, 
and consciences encased in mail, invulnerable to the feeble 
weapons of philosophy and unchristianized morality, have 
been pierced to the quick, and sought the only remedy 
for their wounds in the balmy blessings of the Gospel of 
peace 

" ' Verily, verily, I say unto thee, except a man be bom 
again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.' The necessity 
of this new birth appears from the nature -and condition 
of man. We wish not to enter into the consideration of the 
doctrine of original sin, depravity, or the imputation of sin. 
Leaving these terms of theology, look round only, we entreat 
you, on the world in which we live ; see it deformed by 
corruption, spotted by pollution ; see it full of men buried 
in sinful pursuits and enslaved to innumerable lusts that w r ar 
against the soul. The first objects that engage the dawning 
mind of the child are objects of sense. That which is born 
of the flesh is flesh. It is a selfish, sensual creature, igno- 
rant of its Creator, of its destination ; uninclined to the 
purity, the spirituality, the power of religion ; alienated from 
the life of God, the life of the soul! Unrenewed by the 
influence of religious truth, undirected bv the £uidincr hand 
of an Almighty Father, how shall such a creature reach 
the regions of immortal bliss ? Is it enthusiasm, is it folly, 



THE ATONEMENT. 341 

is it hypocrisy, to say to such a creature, ' You must be born 
again before you can see the kingdom of God ' ? Is that 
Redeemer to be disclaimed who offers you his Divine aid 
to form anew your character, to exalt your affections, to en- 
lighten your dreary and desolate understanding ? Would it 
not be a contemptuous abridgment of the bounty, and an 
ungrateful restriction of the meaning, of the Saviour, to sup- 
pose that he intended to confine his assertion of the neces- 
sity of this regeneration to the Jews or Gentiles of that age ? 
Reflect, it is not with Nicodemus only, but with us, he is con- 
versing ; and if our lips declare ' We know, Master, thou 
art a teacher sent from God,' to us he still replies, 'Verily, I 
say unto you, you are not my disciples till you are regen- 
erated ; till you have imbibed my Spirit, you cannot in- 
herit my future and immortal empire.' " 

"UPON THE ATONEMENT. 

" ' In whom we have redemption through his blood.' — Col. i. 14. 

[After enumerating the various ways in which the 
death of Christ is spoken of in the Scriptures, the nature 
and meaning of sacrifices among the Jews, &c. : — ] " In the 
second place, I propose to state to you, in general, some 
of the ideas which Christians have entertained on the sub- 
ject of the death of Christ. Here you will immediately 
perceive that a plain line of distinction must necessarily 
be drawn between those who receive the language of Scrip- 
ture on this subject in a literal sense and those who give 
it only a figurative interpretation. Of the ideas of the lat- 
ter, I may say in general, that they imply such a diminution 
of the strict meaning of language as is hardly consistent 
with any commonly received notion of inspiration. They 
suppose the death of Christ was described in sacrificial 
terms, borrowed from the Old Testament, in order to rec- 
oncile the Jewish Christians to the simplicity of the new 
dispensation, and enable them to find something in Chris- 
29* 



342 THE ATONEMENT. 

tianitv answering to the sacrifices, oblations, priests, and cere- 
monies to which they had been accustomed under the old 
dispensation. If, however, the sacrifices under the Mosaic 
dispensation had any expiating efficacy, and the Apostles 
believed that they had, it cannot be supposed that the death 
of Christ, which they represented as supplying their place, 
should be so described in mere accommodation to the idea 
of the Jews, unless it in truth contained something of a simi- 
lar or superior nature. These Christians, therefore, believ- 
ing that there is nothing in the nature of sin which may 
not be pardoned upon repentance, believe, too, of course, 
that sacrifices, which had been considered as necessary to 
the acceptableness of repentance, were neither in truth of 
any intrinsic value, nor had they any reference to the 
great atonement which they have been said to prefigure. 
But if there is nothing really propitiatory in the practice of 
sacrifices, it is extremely difficult to account for the idea 
which has universally prevailed of their necessity in order 
to secure the favor of God, and not less difficult to account 
for their origin and prevalence in the world. "They suppose, 
also, that the intention of the Mosaic expiations did not re- 
gard the moral element, but only ceremonial uncleanness, 
or something equally unimportant ; that they had no refer- 
ence to, or pre figuration of, the death of Christ, and, of 
course, that, whatever value they possessed, they did not de- 
rive it from that great sacrifice, foreordained in the counsels 
of Heaven. In one word, they take it for granted that the 
death of Christ is described in these sacrificial terms, not 
because it really possessed an expiatory efficacy, or an 
efficacy similar to that belonging to the Jewish sacrifices, 
but because there were circumstances in the one, to which 
they could find something parallel in the other. You will 
easily perceive how much this reduces the literal meaning 
of the language of the Scriptures, and will perhaps say that 
it leaves as many difficulties unaccounted for as the system 
of those who adopt the literal meaning. 



THE ATONEMENT. 343 

" In direct opposition to this latitudinarian explanation, 
and at the other extreme, is the system of those who con- 
sider the death of Christ as that great event upon which the 
pardon of the world depends, and without which no person 
living, whatever his character may be, short of entire inno- 
cence, can be rescued from eternal condemnation and mis- 
ery, which is the positive punishment to be annexed in a 
future life to the smallest transgression. 

" The notions of sin, on which their system is founded, 
are these : — The least deviation from the laws of God is 
either an infinite evil, or such an infinite dishonor to his 
character, that it cannot, consistently with God's justice, or 
the nature of things, be forgiven simply upon repentance, 
without some satisfaction equivalent to the dreadfulness of 
the evil. Some, however, disdain as presumptuous the as- 
sertion that God cannot forgive the offences of men without 
some scheme of atonement, and only maintain that it was 
inconsistent with his attributes and character to forgive sin 
upon mere repentance, or in any other manner. Under 
this idea, therefore, that there was something of vicarious 
atonement in the death of Christ, without which sin was un- 
pardonable, they explain the origin of sacrifices, and the 
notions of mankind respecting their efficacy. They sup- 
pose that sacrifices were originally instituted by God in 
reference to this great and final sacrifice, and this only gave 
them their significance and value. They suppose that un- 
less the death of Christ is considered as a real expiation, 
no well-grounded hope can be entertained by any man of 
deliverance from the future and everlasting punishment of 
his sins ; and of course they maintain that all the repre- 
sentations in Scripture relating to this subject convey the 
idea of, and require the belief of, a true and proper atone- 
ment. 

" It is true that, upon this scheme, there is some difficulty 
in reconciling the phrases, which represent Christ some- 



3-44 THE ATONEMENT. 

times as the priest, and sometimes as the sacrifiee ; and 
which attribute the efficacy of his mediation sometimes to 
his example, sometimes to his death, at others to his 
resurrection, and in others to his intercession. Upon the 
whole, therefore, they are willing to admit that all that 
Christ did and suffered is to be taken into the account ; that 
his obedience altogether constitutes the equivalent satisfac- 
tion, without which it was impossible for the sins of man- 
kind to be forgiven. 

" Between these two views of the subject many others 
have been invented by theologians, giving up or retaining 
more or less of the peculiarities of each. These I have 
not time or inclination to detail to you. In order, however, 
to arrive at just conceptions of the nature of our redemp- 
tion, and to avoid the extravagances into which systematic 
theologians have fallen, it is necessary to keep in mind the 
following principles : — In considering the character and 
conduct of our God, we must be careful not to separate any 
one of his attributes from the others, his mercy from his 
justice, or his justice from his mercy. This would be to re- 
duce his nature to our limited conceptions. His attributes 
are all harmonious, and his nature one great impulse to- 
ward what is best. Hence, if we contemplate his mere 
justice, apart and unmodified by any other quality, we must 
in truth consider our relation to him in the light of debt 
and credit ; and in this view of the subject, it may be said, 
indeed, that he could not forgive an offender, till some ade- 
quate satisfaction, beside mere repentance, was provided, 
to render it proper to be propitious. But the light in which 
reason and Christianity represent God is that of a parent. 
Now a parent, however disposed he may be to forgive a dis- 
obedient child, may yet think it highly proper not to receive 
him into favor, upon his mere symptoms of returning affec- 
tion ; but may rest his acceptance on some condition, which, 
though not strictly indispensable, may yet be extremely 



THE ATONEMENT. 345 

proper, to impress the child more strongly with the crime of 
his disobedience, and operate to prevent a repetition of the 
offence. Such is the light in which we ought to consider 
the method which God has adopted, in declaring his dispo- 
sition to forgive his offending children of the human race. 
Again: whatever may have been the real efficacy of the 
death of Christ, it cannot be supposed that the change of 
disposition is wrought upon God. His nature is immutable, 
and his purposes are originally benevolent. The object of 
the Scripture representation is to operate upon ourselves. 
Till the effect is produced upon ourselves, the propitiation 
of our Saviour, however great or powerful, is of no avail 
to our redemption. 

" Keeping in view, then, the parental character of God, 
and the object of the sacrifice of Christ, let us always con- 
sider that the method which God has chosen, to declare and 
to dispense his pardon, is unquestionably the wisest and best. 
You may ask why God could not have explicitly declared, 
that, upon the sincere repentance of a sinner, he was ready 
to receive him into favor, without connecting it in any way 
with the sacrifice of so illustrious a person as the Son of 
God ; I answer, I know not. I know only, that God has 
chosen another method, which he undoubtedly thought more 
effectual and proper. I may answer you, too, by proposing 
a parallel example. If you ask me why God could not 
have effected his purpose of bringing life and immortality 
to light, by simply assuring us of it upon his bare authority, 
without coupling it with, or making it depend, as he has 
done, on the resurrection of his Son, I can only answer, 
because he has thought the latter method more effectual. It 
was unquestionably better calculated to influence the belief 
of the contemporaries of our Lord to show them the fact of 
a person's rising from the dead, than any mere declaration 
of a future existence could have been. In the same man- 
ner, he has thought it better to assure the world of the par- 



346 



THE ATONEMENT. 



don of sin, by setting before their eyes the great sacrifice 
of Jesus, and directing their attention to it in this light, than 
merely by a simple declaration of his placability. If these 
remarks are properly considered, I think we shall be more 
disposed to acquiesce in the method which God has chosen ; 
and, instead of presumptuously declaring what he might 
have done, we shall, with humility, endeavour to derive 
from the Scripture account of the sacrifice of Christ, mo- 
tives of gratitude and consolation, and a deep abhorrence of 
those sins which occasioned this scheme of suffering and 
death. 

" III. I proceed, therefore, with more pleasure, to the 
third head of my discourse, in which I proposed to consider 
the practical considerations suggested by the death of Christ. 

" 1. In the first place, it leads us to the most exalted and 
touching conceptions of the mercy of God. My dear 
friends, have you ever looked into your own hearts, and 
compared them with the purity of God ? Have you ever 
considered that it is mercy and unmerited and perfectly 
gratuitous forbearance only in your Creator which has con- 
tinued you yet in life, and withheld from you that punish- 
ment which your ingratitude and your unworthiness have 
deserved? What was it but compassion, which could hold 
out to creatures like us the hope of the future friendship of 
the pure Being, who cannot behold iniquity, even the most 
secret and unobserved, without abhorrence ? And what but 
the most unbounded benignity, far beyond the ordinary 
standard by which we estimate goodness, would have pro- 
vided a dispensation by which such unpretending and worth- 
less men as we are may aspire to eternal felicity and im- 
provement ? Have you considered, also, the dreary and 
benighted state of the world, on the subject of pardon, be- 
fore the appearance of Christ ? the horrible notions which 
prevailed of the Divinity, the dread of his justice, the inex- 
pressible fears and horrors with which futurity was invested, 






THE ATONEMENT. 347 

the tremendous sacrifices with which the Deity was propiti- 
ated, the heart-rending doubts which prevailed in the purest 
and most enlightened minds on the subject, as to the Divine 
placability ? Whenever a good man reaches that last hour, 
when the world shrinks into nothing in his sight, and, in- 
stead of it, when all his sins and imperfections rise up in fear- 
ful array before him, — when his conscience tells him what 
he has deserved, but holds out no certain, sure, and pacify- 
ing method of obtaining pardon and relief, — then it is that he 
may learn to estimate the mercy of the Gospel dispensation. 
Then, when he is looking round for some promises of pardon, 
the method of salvation by Jesus Christ our Lord presents 
itself as an inexpressible consolation, and he blesses God for 
the hope of his Gospel ! He now regards everything which 
Jesus has suffered as a pledge from God of the security of 
his gracious promise. Every other expiation, oblation, cere- 
mony, however expensive, or however awful, he sees to be 
worse than ineffectual, — even impious. In this state of 
mind his philosophy deserts him. He receives with humili- 
ty and joy the redemption held out by Jesus. He sees in 
Jesus the compassionate character of God, and he sees it 
clearly nowhere else. He is no longer disposed to inquire 
into the minute relations of everything which he sees in the 
sacrifice of Christ ; but he embraces the simple declaration 
that God is in Christ, and reconciling the world unto him- 
self, not imputing unto men their trespasses. He sees 
enough of the character of God in the simple fact, that he 
has given the world an encouragement, by the death of so 
pure and spotless a victim, that the access to God is open, 
and the hope of pardon a hope to which he may aspire. 
He will feel unable to express his gratitude to the Father 
of mankind, that he has not left them in distressing igno- 
rance, in all the horrors of unexpiated guilt ; but whatever 
assurance can possibly be afforded to unworthy creatures is 
contained in the scheme of redemption which God has 



3i8 THE TERMS OF SALVATION. 

chosen, to display his benignity. ' Herein is love, not that 
we loved God, but that he loved ns, and sent his Son to be 
the propitiation for our sins.' " 

The extracts which follow are from the last sermon, 
except two, which my brother ever wrote. The sermon 
was written in the April previous to his death, and may 
be understood to express his last opinions. 

" ' What shall I do to inherit eternal life ? ' — Luke x. 25. 

" We have the authority of the Saviour to answer the 
question in one invariable manner : ' If thou wouldst enter 
into life, keep the commandments.' But here a question 
arises, whether it be possible, from the nature and con- 
dition of man, perfectly to keep the commands of God ? 
If not, how can this be the condition of human salvation ? 
We answer, that, though there should not be a just man 
upon earth, who sinneth not, it alters not the requisitions of 
the Divine law. Since, in speaking of God, we must make 
use of human language, of what are called forensic terms, 
we may observe that it is the very nature of law, and in- 
deed of every rule, to require the most exact conformity. 
The law of God, like every other, when considered simply 
as law, provides no dispensations, and exposes every of- 
fender, even in the minutest degree, to punishment. It 
would not be law, indeed, if it did not. But though the 
Scriptures, and the systems of theologians, in different 
places, represent the moral government of God, over his 
imperfect creatures, under two different aspects, of a cov- 
enant of works and a covenant of grace, of pure law and 
pure mercy, as if they were opposite and irreconcilable prin- 
ciples ; yet we should beware of contemplating the char- 
acter of God as consisting of attributes at war with one 
another, but rather should we consider it in the whole as one 
great impulse toward what is best. It is impossible, indeed, 



THE TERMS OF SALVATION. 349 

from the nature of the case, to admit that God's law, as it is 
called, requires anything short of perfect obedience. This 
we cannot allow, while we continue to talk of God in terms 
of human legislation ; it is the unavoidable consequence of 
the application of the language of men to the ways of God. 
Yet when we say, that God requires from every man an obe- 
dience absolutely sinless, we know, at the same time, that 
he provides for the pardon of transgressors on their repent- 
ance. 

" The parental character is that in which God has ever 
delighted to exhibit himself; and it was to display, con- 
firm, and establish on the surest grounds this parental char- 
acter of God, that the Son of God came into the world. 
The dispensation of Christianity proceeds altogether on this 
view, and any other dispensation toward such a nature as 
man's would be absolute cruelty and injustice. If men 
choose to say that this favor, or grace, or mercy, toward 
offenders, or by whatever name it may be called, was ob- 
tained by the sacrifice of Christ, or is dispensed on the 
ground of his propitiation, it comes to the same thing ; be- 
cause, for the original appointment of this mode of accept- 
ance, we must still revert to the precious love, or, in other 
words, to the parental character of God. 

" Further, if it should be asked whether any human be- 
ing has ever attained to this sinless conformity to the Di- 
vine commands, we answer, No ; for this would imply that 
some one of our race had reached that point of perfection, 
beyond which improvement was impossible, — a supposition 
inconsistent with our present condition as a state of proba- 
tion, contrary to all the representations of Scripture, and 
to all our experience of human character. 

" What! then, you will say, has no human being ever 

merited the gift of eternal life ? We answer, Certainly he 

has not. For it is the very nature of the Gospel, that it 

is a dispensation of grace, that its great benefit cannot be 

30 



350 THE TERMS OF SALVATION. 

claimed as a debt, but is bestowed in consequence of a 
gracious promise. Yet it is no less true that the sincere 
and uniform endeavour to do what God requires, and re- 
pentance for failures and transgressions, which is followed 
by amendment, may be called the eternal condition of ever- 
lasting life, because the character and declarations of God 
have explicitly made them such under the dispensation of 
Christianity. 

" But it may again be asked, if our final acceptance 
with God depends, not on absolute and sinless perfection, 
but on that sincerity of disposition and endeavour which 
produces prevailing obedience and continual progress in 
virtue, how is it possible for any one to be sure of eternal 
life, or to know whether he is, at any one time, in a state of 
salvation ? 

" I answer, in the first place, that, if men desire to know 
what precise amount of holiness will rescue them from per- 
dition, the very question implies that they have not the true 
principle of religious obedience, and, if there be any an- 
swer to be given to such a question, it is most wisely con- 
cealed from us, for the very notion of true obedience is in- 
consistent with such an inquiry. 

• " In the second place, to the sincere Christian the answer 
would be useless; for whatever assurance he might at one 
time indulge, yet, as long as he remains a probationary 
creature, liable to relapse, and, consequently, obliged to 
watchfulness and exertion, the assurance of salvation at any 
particular period would be injurious or deceitful. All that 
we should desire or expect to attain, is a well-grounded 
hope of our acceptance with God, as the reward of unre- 
served obedience, of unfeigned repentance, of daily prog- 
ress in Christian virtue. This is the hope which maketh not 
ashamed, for the love of God is shed abroad in the heart. 

" Another mistake of the terms of acceptance with God 
is to rely upon faith only for salvation. This has generally 



THE TERMS OF SALVATION. 351 

been rather a verbal than a material error, and was in former 
times more dangerous than now ; for a defect of faith, in the 
subject of Christianity, is, at the present day, far more com- 
mon than too great confidence or credulity. But, as this 
mistake, like many others, is still founded on the sound of 
certain passages of Scripture, let us hear what is so often 
quoted from the favorite Apostle on this subject. ' By 
grace,' says he, ' ye are saved through faith ; and a man is 
justified by faith without the deeds of the law.' Does Paul, 
then, mean to declare, that bare belief in Jesus Christ, with- 
out repentance and obedience, can secure to any man the 
gift of eternal salvation ? Let his brother Apostle answer, 
as he has, in terms which nothing can render more explicit : 
1 What does it profit a man, if he say he have faith, and 
have not works ? Can faith save him ? No ; faith without 
works is dead, being alone.' 

" Another mistake of the terms of acceptance with God is 
found among those who profess to rely solely upon the merits 
of Christ. It is not uncommon to find men, who have never 
evinced any sentiments of religion, or given any satisfac- 
tory evidence of repentance and reformation, using this too 
familiar language : ' For does not an Apostle assure us,' 
say they, ' that we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus 
Christ the righteous, who is a propitiation for our sins, and 
not for ours only, but for the whole world ? ' But for what 
sins, my Christian friends ? For those which we have not 
forsaken, or of which we have not repented ? For those 
sins which we every day commit, without remorse and with- 
out consideration ? Suppose the merits of Christ to be in- 
finite, incalculable. Can they supply our sinful omissions 
of duty ? Christ has done nothing for the unrepenting sin- 
ner. Christ can do nothing for the presumptuous sinner, 
whose reliance on a Saviour's merit is thought sufficient to 
excuse him from any obedience or virtue of his own. 

" The application of Christ's righteousness to ourselves 



352 THE TERMS OF SALVATION. 

is, in truth, a phrase altogether unscriptural. The word of 
God conveys no such meaning as the phrase bears in the 
mouth of an irreligious man. It is true, indeed, that the 
worth of our Saviour's life and character is beyond all esti- 
mate, and his obedience unto death was, in the sight of God, 
inexpressibly precious ; but never can this worth become 
ours, except so far as we repent and forsake our sins, and 
imitate his life and obedience ; and whatever may be, in 
the sight of God, the efficacy of his death, never, never let 
it be imagined that it is a propitiation for the sins which we 
still retain, the sins which we will not forsake ! 

" Again. Do we rely for salvation on the effectual and 
miraculous operation of God's Spirit, pleading our inability 
to render that obedience which God's law requires ? Take 
care, my friends, that you do not misunderstand this abstract 
and difficult subject. 

" If we mean only, that, without his powerful energy and 
continual support, we could neither live, nor act, nor think, 
this indeed is well. If we mean, that, without his gracious 
instruction, encouragement, and blessing on our exertions, 
we could neither contend with our lusts, correct our habits, 
reform our lives, or make progress in the divine life, all this 
is undeniable. But, if we go further than this, if we im- 
agine our inability to do what is good is such that it is not at 
any time in our power to cease to do evil, but that we may 
plead this impotency in defence of our sins, the very sug- 
gestion only shows the strength of our evil habits, the great- 
ness of our corruption, and the extreme danger of our situ- 
ation. 

" But does not an Apostle say, ' We are not sufficient of 
ourselves, but all our sufficiency is of God ' ? He does. 
But for what were these early converts not competent? To 
perform what God had required of them ? To render obe- 
dience to his laws, and devote themselves to his service? 
Surely not. The Apostle has here reference to those 



THE TERMS OF SALVATION. 353 

miraculous powers with which his brethren were furnished 
for the propagation of the Gospel. He is comparing the 
total inadequacy of the natural means, by which the astonish- 
ing work was accomplished, with the greatness of the effect. 
He has not the remotest reference to the common ability of 
man to do the will of God, to lead a life of obedience and 
holiness. 

" The inability of man, by whatever name we call it, is no 
greater in the affairs of religion than in any other case, ex- 
cept so far as it is the consequence of his own peculiar de- 
pravity. If, indeed, it were an original, total, and universal 
incapacity for religion, — if there were in us no powers which 
could be called into exercise by the various means of grace 
afforded us, no natural capacity of being affected by the 
motives presented to us, — the whole system of facts, doc- 
trines, promises, and threatenings in the Gospel, were a 
cumbrous and unnecessary provision, and God has taken 
the superfluous care to persuade us to exert ourselves, and 
strive for that which, by a single motion of his will, he 
might have done for us instantly, effectually, completely, 
and which, according to the theories of some Christians, he 
must still do for us, by the extraordinary and irresistible 
operation of his Spirit." 



30* 



CHAPTER XVII. 

ORDINATION OF MR. PARKER, AT PORTSMOUTH. — DR. BUCK- 

MINSTER'S FRIENDSHIP FOR HIM. J. S. BUCKM1N- 

STER'S HOUSEKEEPING WITH HIS SISTER IN BOSTON. — 

LETTERS FROM DRS. SPRAGUE, PIERCE, AND ABBOT. DR. 

WORCESTER. 

1808. There were other interesting occurrences 

Aged 24. f t ^ e y ear |3qs 5 w hich have been omitted, 
because it was desirable to present the sketch, however 
imperfect it may be, of the beginning of the Unitarian 
controversy, and the participation that Mr. Buckminster 
had in preparing the way for the changes that have taken 
place in society, by themselves. He was called, indeed, 
to put off his armor before the heat and burden of the 
conflict began. Hitherto, his profession had led him to 
the most noble and interesting studies, to the cultivation 
of the best sympathies of his heart, and to the unembar- 
rassed pursuit of truth. He had been the advocate of 
no party, and there might have been a fear that his mind 
would have suffered by a too exclusive application to 
the studies that would have fitted him to take his in- 
evitable part in the theological warfare of the great 
struggle that was just beginning. 

Unitarianism had at this time developed only rational 
and critical powers. It had been an intellectual protest, a 
plea, against dogmatic theology. It had not yet touched 



ORDINATION OF MR. PARKER. 355 

the inward springs that open the rich fountains of imagina- 
tion, of devotional fervor, and Divine love. His was of 
that class of minds which would have soonest felt that the 
simple faith of Unitarians is most intimately united with 
a depth of spiritual feeling, a height of sublime devotion, 
and a divine beauty of character, unsurpassed by any 
other faith ; and his sermons, as well as the numerous 
prayers that he has left, show that he already knew and 
felt that union. 

The year 1808 was also fraught with deep interest to 
Dr. Buckminster, in his more retired circle of duties in 
Portsmouth. There had always existed an intimate 
connection between the north and south parishes in 
that place. Dr. Haven, the venerable pastor of the 
south parish, had died in 1806. He had been like a 
father to Mr. Buckminster, when he first came, a 
stranger, to Portsmouth, and there had ever continued a 
close and intimate ministerial union between them. In 
1808, the Rev. Nathan Parker was invited to settle over 
the south church, and his ordination took place in the 
September of that year. 

Mr. Parker was of the new or liberal school of the- 
ology, and Dr. Buckminster, as we have seen, had be- 
come more strictly orthodox as he advanced in life. 
But one of the most valuable traits of Mr. Parker's 
character was honesty, — honesty in the fullest and most 
honorable sense of the word. Xi He was imbued with a 
love of truth, exhibiting itself in singleness of purpose and 
sincerity of manner. There was no appearance of guile 
in him ; he did nothing for effect. He was direct and 
independent." He had also the deepest religious con- 
victions, and the utmost sincerity of love to his Divine 
Master. Dr. Buckminster could not fail instantly to 



356 DR. BUCKMINSTERS FRIENDSHIP FOR HIM. 

appreciate these noble qualities, so congenial also to 
his own feelings of truth. They met therefore with 
conscious sincerity, with full and entire confidence. 
By an open and frank avowal of his sentiments, Mr. 
Parker secured the lively esteem of Dr. Buckminster, 
and every succeeding interview only served to strength- 
en the attachment of the one, and the almost filial rever- 
ence and respect of the other. Dr. B. was absent at 
the ordination of Mr. Parker, and took no part in the 
services. But " I rejoice," said he, " that the South 
Parish have such a minister ; he is an honest young 
man, devoted to his profession ; he will be a staff to 
me in my declining years." And they ever lived to- 
gether like intimate and confidential friends. 

The widow of one of the deacons of the south 
church, having heard whispers oi^ heresy against " the 
new young man," waited upon Dr. Buckminster as soon 
as he returned from the journey, and asked him if she 
had not better leave the heretical minister and join his 
own church, where she would hear a sounder doctrine. 
" Stay where you are," said he ; "if you practice as 
well as Mr. Parker preaches, you will not need to go 
anywhere else." 

The union of the two parishes continued uninterrupt- 
ed. The two pastors, the elder and the younger, were 
usually companions at all ministers' meetings, ordina- 
tions, and occasions of professional excursion ; and Dr. 
Buckminster always came home exhilarated by the cheer- 
ful intercourse of a younger and fresher mind. Certainly 
the acquisition of such a friend and companion as Mr. 
Parker contributed more to his happiness, in the few 
remaining years of his life, than any other circumstance 
that attended them. Theirs was a beautiful example 



PRESIDENT APPLETON. 357 

of a union in the spirit of their Master, which merged 
all speculative differences of opinion in a superior love 
to him, and attachment to his cause. 

The year preceding the settlement of Mr. Parker, 
the circle of his ministerial associates and friends had 
been much weakened by the removal of Dr. Appleton 
from Hampton to become the President of Bowdoin 
College, thus depriving the Piscataqua Association of 
one of its most distinguished members, and Dr. Buck- 
minster of the cordial intercourse of a beloved friend. 
The diversity of opinion and unity of feeling in that 
Association has been already mentioned ; but Dr. Buck- 
minster and Dr. Appleton were not only united in the 
bonds of a warm personal regard, but in speculative 
opinion they came as near as any two minds of different 
mental endowment could come, to the same views of 
controverted subjects. They were both impressive 
preachers, but they differed extremely in their mode 
of delivering truth. Dr. Appleton was never impas- 
sioned, but he imparted to his sermons the force of his 
own convictions, and his eloquence and his arguments 
were irresistibly convincing to the understanding. Dr. 
Buckminster's sermons were rarely argumentative ; his 
manner was impassioned, his eloquence persuasive, 
rather tending to excite emotion and alarm conscience 
than to place the subject within the grasp of the in- 
tellect. 

These two friends spent much time together, and, 
after their separation, kept up a frequent intercourse 
by letter. It is to be regretted that the correspondence 
was not preserved. 

There may appear to the reader some discrepancy 
and inconsistency in the accounts that have been given 



358 VARIATION IN DR. BUCKMINSTER'S 

of Dr. Buckminster's feelings at different times with 
regard to bis own religious views. It may appear some- 
what surprising, that, after being acquainted with so much 
diversity of opinion in the Piscataqua Association, he 
should have regarded his son's deviation from orthodox 
views with so much surprise and displeasure ; and again., 
that, at a later period, he should have looked upon Mr. 
Parker's settlement with so much leniency, if not com- 
placency. It must be remembered that it was only 
upon two points that his son's heresy excited surprise : 
the denial of the Trinity, the assertion of the inferi- 
ority of the Son to the Father, and, consequently, an 
inadequate atonement for sin. In his father's words, 
— c ' He did not believe the proper Deity and Divinity 
of Christ, nor his vicarious satisfaction and atonement 
for the sins of men." 

It does not appear, and I believe it is a fact, that 
there was no denial of the Trinity in the Piscataqua 
Association before the introduction of Mr.. Parker into 
its number. If there had been, his settlement would 
not have been discussed and opposed as it was, by some 
members of the Association. It was also Mr. Parker's 
noble personal character, his unusual talents and graces 
as a minister, that won Dr. Buckminster's warmest es- 
teem and friendship before he was settled in the South 
Parish in Portsmouth. Dr. Buckminster, not wishing 
to oppose his settlement, and being too conscientious 
to take a part in it, embraced the excuse that the fail- 
ing health of one of his daughters presented, to take 
a journey, and absent himself from the ordination. 

Although always a sincere follower of Calvin, his 
religious views were greatly modified by the state of 
his health. When he was struggling with nervous de- 



RELIGIOUS IMPRESSIONS. 359 

pression, his religious feelings were deepened into gloomy 
views of sin, and of the depravity of the heart, and the 
unworthiness of man. 

At the time his son was beginning to preach, the life 
of his beloved wife was just drawing to a close, and his 
spirits were greatly depressed ; while, on the contrary 
Mr. Parker's settlement took place at a period in Dr. 
Buckminster's life when he enjoyed an unusual degree 
of health and freedom from depression. Such a re- 
sult of nervous hypochondria is not at all unusual. The 
writer is intimately acquainted with the case of a lady, 
who is subject to seasons of great nervous depression. 
When she is in good health, she is a decided Unitarian ; 
but as soon as her disease returns, she is overwhelmed 
with the fears and the gloom of Calvinism. 

Soon after my brother's return from Europe, he had 
undertaken the task of housekeeping by himself. He 
had found inconveniences in boarding, and the parish, 
with their usual liberality, had, while he was absent, 
added a new story, and thoroughly repaired the parson- 
age-house. He furnished his rooms with a frugality little 
in accordance with the splendor of his library. He 
grudged every expense that was not devoted to the in- 
side or the outside of a book : the latter, indeed, bore no 
proportion to the former. He spent little in elegant bind- 
ings, although he deprecated the avarice which should 
diminish the mere luxury of literature. He soon found 
that his experiment of housekeeping involved him in 
petty cares and vexatious troubles, which none but the 
feebler sex can bear with exemplary patience. His 
incessant occupation, his nightly protracted studies, 
and the precarious state of his health, caused his friends 



360 THE SISTER OF J. S. BUCKMINSTER. 

to regard him with trembling interest, and excited the 
most lively anxiety in his father, till he at length yielded 
to the incessant solicitations of the brother, and consented 
that his eldest sister should join him in Boston, and take 
the place of the head of his family. He hoped that 
having a sister with him would insensibly lead him to 
relaxation from his midnight studies, and induce him to 
give more time to social and domestic pleasures. 

The reluctance of Dr. Buckminster to allow his 
daughters to leave the retirement of home has been 
already mentioned. He deprecated for them the for- 
mation of a taste for luxury, and for the elegances of 
life, which he feared would make them less happy in the 
humble and simple home in which they had been born, 
and in which, as he thought, they were destined to live. 
It was also at no little sacrifice of daily joy and comfort 
that he consented to the absence of his eldest daughter 
from his own home. She was necessary to both father 
and brother. Could she have divided her.disinterested 
care, as she did her affections, between them, there 
would have been enough for both ; but whoever had once 
had the happiness of her presence in domestic life could 
but reluctantly consent to part with her again. She 
brought with her into a house the spirit of order and 
perfect arrangement. Cheerfulness and tranquil con- 
tentment entered with gentle footsteps, like ministering 
spirits, and gladdened the roof under which she dwelt ; 
and when she departed from it the sunlight of quiet 
happiness went with her. 

"Not learned, save in gracious household ways; 
No angel, but a dearer being, all dipped 
In angel instincts, breathing Paradise: 
Interpreter between the gods and men; 
And looked all native to her place." 



FAMILY LETTERS. 361 

A short extract from one of her letters will show, 
that, if her brother's house was a scene of more varied 
and more intellectual pleasures, the one she left was not 
without its tranquil happiness. 

" Our family have never been so well as at present. My 
father is in good health and fine spirits. He is to preach the 
sermon before the Female Asylum, at Newburyport, and 
also at the ordination of Mr. Thurston, at Manchester, and 
will probably make you a visit in Boston ; this last, how- 
ever, is only a conjecture of mine, so that you must not rely 
too much upon it. The lovely M. G. has been passing a 
few days with us, and adding to the charms of our little 
parlour. There is no place, I believe, in the wide world, 
where more happiness is enjoyed, especially when you visit 
us. We are all in perfect health, my father in good spirits, 
with a kind parish, good, and some very agreeable, friends ; 
we are above all want, although possessing none of the super- 
fluities of life ; the little children are good and improving ; 
cheerfulness reigns in our house, and, I hope, gratitude in 
our hearts. Our happiness would be greater, if you could 
be with us oftener ; but we please ourselves, as soon as you 
are gone, by anticipating the next visit. With the best 
wishes that the heart can dictate, or the pen express, I am 
your affectionate sister, 

" L. M. B." 

Of the large number of family letters that passed 
while the brother urged, and the father reluctantly con- 
sented, to break in upon the union, and divide the mem- 
bers of his family, only two or three are inserted. The 
father's fears were prophetic. The family never met 
again beneath the parental roof. The whole number 
never met again in life ; and a most singular fatality 
divided them also in death. Of Dr. Buckminster's 
31 



362 CORRESPONDENCE. 

twelve children, except some young infants, who are 
buried in Portsmouth, only two rest together, — Joseph 
and his eldest sister repose beneath the shades of Mount 
Auburn. The graves of the others are scattered over 
New England. 

The old parsonage-house, in Portsmouth, with noth- 
ing attractive in its exterior, with no architectural 
beauty, small and inconvenient in its rooms, dark and 
shaded in its aspect, is yet filled with touching memo- 
ries. Its low-roofed rooms are yet eloquent to one 
heart. Every beam has witnessed the prayers of the 
father. Angel faces look back, sweet, youthful voices 
echo through its silent rooms, and every beloved name 
is covered with the flowers of memory- The thousand 
silken ties that bind families together in their youth are 
like the gossamer webs which lie so thick upon the grass 
in a summer's morning ; — they must be steeped in the 
dew of tears before they are perceived in all their rain- 
bow colors. 

'•' January, 1808. 
•- My dear Father, — Though I have often had the 
pleasure of hearing about you, I really cannot recollect 
when I last received a letter from you. Mr. Emerson has 
told me that he found you well, both in body and mind. 
Being absent, I hear of your estate : and under the terms 
of mind, body, and estate, is comprehended, in the English 
liturgy, all for which we can pray when we remember our 
friends at the Throne of Grace. In the last two of these, I 
am, by God's blessing, sufficiently prosperous ; at least, my 
health is as good as I can expect, and my estate far better 
than I deserve. As to my mind, I doubt not you pray that 
it may be seasoned with grace and knowledge ; I hope your 
prayers will be heard. 



CORRESPONDENCE. 363 

" As to the subject of my being married, I go so little 
into the company of young people, that I hardly think of it. 
I must be allowed to wait till something offers that attracts 
me spontaneously, and that is truly eligible. I shall never 
set out coolly in the pursuit of a wife. My present situation 
I believe not injurious to my ministerial character. If I am 
deficient in some of the private sympathies of a pastor, I 
hope I shall be enabled to make amends as a public in- 
structor. 

" Do not leave me without hope of the presence and sol- 
ace of one of my sisters. Think, my dear sir, how solitary 
you would feel could you not hear the voices of your chil- 
dren, and the echo of footsteps beside your own. Spare 
me one of my sisters." 

" February, 1808. 

" My dear Father, — You are unwilling that either of 
my sisters should make my house her residence. If I could 
perceive the shadow of an objection, or that it could be in 
any way injurious to them or to me, I would not urge it. 
But really I know not the shadow of an objection upon the 
score of delicacy or advantage. One of them would be 
extremely useful to me, and agreeable to my friends. I 
sincerely hope that no fancied prospect of my being more 
easily led to change my condition, in consequence of being 
left alone, will have any operation upon your decision. 

" E. would be a great addition to my comfort ; let her 
come up with L., and in a few weeks one may return, and 
the other will be less uneasy at being left alone. On the 
score of expense, there is no objection. I do not find that 
the addition of one or two makes any difference. I cannot 
do without one or the other of them. I chatter like a swal- 
low, and mourn like a dove upon the housetops. 

" I find the labors of my profession do not diminish with 
time. I ought not to expect they should. If I should be 



364 



CORRESPONDENCE. 



blessed as the means of doing any good, I shall cheerfully 
submit to the dispensations of Providence, if they should 
even compel me to give up my profession for ever. I trust 
I am prepared for any result of my malady. 

" I send herewith ten copies of a little devotional work, 
which I have just had published. If you know any young 
men, to whom it will be likely to be profitable, I hope you 
will dispose of them. Yours, 

" J. S. B." 

To which his father answered : — 

" My dear Son, — I pity your lonely state, but I think 
you had much better ' lead about ' a wife than a sister. It 
is not my own interest or necessities that form the ground 
of my objection to your sisters 1 residing with you ; it is the 
dread of their being allured from the retirement and the 
regular habits of their father's house into circles that afford 
food for their literary and worldly ambition, of which they 
have a full share ; and this, I fear, will disqualify them 
for that sphere where alone I would wish them to shine, 
and give them a distaste for those enjoyments without which 
it had been better for us never to have been born. God has 
blessed me with amiable and respectful children, but I have 
no evidence that they have, any of them, so heard and 
learned of the Father that they have come to Christ. I hope 
God has much happiness in store for them ; but it will never 
be found in worldly pleasures, or ambitious pursuits. But I 
must yield to your request. One of your sisters shall go 
and spend some weeks with you, and there is no gallant 
they would prefer to their brother, whenever it is convenient 
for you to come for them." 

To persons of different religious views from Dr. 
Buckminster, it may appear surprising, that, in answer to 
the very letter in which his son expresses such entire 



music- 365 

acquiescence in the will of Providence, as to feel him- 
self ready to submit to any, to the most appalling, con- 
sequences of his malady, his father should have an- 
swered, that u he had no evidence that any of his chil- 
dren had so learned of the Father as to come to Christ." 
Certainly his son had come to the spirit of Christ ; and 
where else had he gained that religious submission which 
made him willing to give up his ministry, his studies, 
the objects of his dearest wishes and his fondest hopes, 
if it should please his Father in heaven to lay such a 
burden of affliction upon him ? It was not stupidity, for 
he had the keenest perception of the consequences of 
his malady. Certainly it was not a proof of an unholy 
ambition to be willing, if it so pleased the Giver of his 
gifts, to descend from the beautiful aspirations of genius 
and wisdom to the lowest state in the condition of in- 
tellect. 

As soon as my brother had obtained the permanent 
presence of a sister, # as an inmate of his house, his 
friends remarked the increase of his cheerfulness, his 
freedom from care, and the entire confidence with which 
he reposed upon her love and faithfulness. This added 
a charm to his bachelor's parsonage, increased his ac- 
quaintance with the younger members of his parish, and 
his house soon became the hospitable rendezvous of his 
friends from Portsmouth. Music was still his chief rec- 
reation ; and, after his sister was with him, he no sooner 
heard of a distinguished female voice than he became 
impatient till he could persuade the possessor of such a 
treasure to consent to come and accompany him at the 
organ ; for this purpose, the instrument was removed to 

* Afterwards the wife of Professor John Farrar, of Cambridge. 

31* 



366 SUNDAY EVENING CONVERSATION. 

his sister's parlour, and the reunions there were among 
the most delightful in Boston. 

The gentlemen of his parish, and others of his friends, 
had long been in the habit of collecting on Sunday 
evenings in his study. He was the centre of a little 
circle, from whom he received as much as he gave. 
There is no evening in the week when a clergyman feels 
so much at his ease, and so ready to enjoy social pleas- 
ures, as after the labors of that day are over. The 
Sabbath has been no day of rest to him, but, if his heart 
is in his profession, it is one of keen enjoyment. He 
has finished the work of the week, and there is a pause 
till the next day. The sermons upon which he has spent 
so much anxious thought, every other day of the week, 
have been preached ; they are off his mind, and it rises 
with elasticity from the pressure. He has looked down, 
too, through the day, upon the attentive and thoughtful 
faces of attached friends ; they have encouraged and 
strengthened him by their respectful attention to his 
gravest counsels, and now he can listen and learn from 
them, in the hours of mutual and equal confidence. 

There were a few gentlemen who scarcely ever omit- 
ted a Sunday evening's visit. Among those who hon- 
ored him the most frequently with their presence were 
the Hon. Samuel Dexter, Judge Parker and Judge 
Hall, James Savage, William Wells, etc. Their host 
thought their conversation sufficiently interesting, on one 
of these evenings, to preserve notes of it in his journal. 

" February. Sunday evening. There was much inter- 
esting conversation .on the natural probability of the future 
existence of man. ' Why,' says Mr. Dexter, ' may not 
death be merely a crisis in one's existence ? Analogy in 



SUNDAY EVENING CONVERSATION. 367 

the chrysalis, etc., — reproduction of plants annually.' Ob- 
jection : They are not the same plants, but a succession 
of different individuals. Perennials, which die and re- 
vive not again, are a counter analogy. Qucere, from , 

about consciousness, whether it is necessary to constitute 
personal identity ? It cannot be. Is it, then, a sufficient 
argument to encourage us to virtue, that we are promoting 
the happiness of a being which shall have no consciousness 
of what has been done here ? ' Why may it not be said,' 

remarked , ' if consciousness do not constitute identity, 

that, by behaving well here, you are adding one to the list of 
happy beings hereafter, but one who is no more yourself 
than Alexander ? ' 

" Mr. . ' Is not the mode in which men learn to admire 

the works of the great masters, Raphael, Michel Angelo, 
precisely similar to the mode in which the pathetic affec- 
tions must be generated ? By continual study to generate 
these feelings, and by familiar and uninterrupted acquaint- 
ance, lest the taste acquired be lost by other pursuits ? The 
religious affections, when in their highest state, are delicate 
and retired, like the internal admiration of an artist for a 

wonderful work.' Mr. . ' Sir Joshua Reynolds says, 

if you relish not Homer and Virgil, read them till you do, 
and do not suspect the whole world has been deceived in 
their admiration.' 

" Mr. . i Why was not Jesus married, to set us an 

example of the duties of that state ? ' Answer. It would 
have been inconsistent with the nature of his life and mis- 
sion. Mr. D. ' Was the recommendation of celibacy in 

the Church from his example r ' Mr. related the 

speech of Lord Chatham upon the subject of the king's 
speech, — an admirable imitation. Mr. D. expatiated upon 
the character of Washington, and told anecdotes of his re- 
serve and dulness in conversation, and asked whether in- 
vention be a faculty necessary to constitute a great man. 



368 LETTER OF REV. DR. SPRAGUE. 

" Mr. asked, 'Is there any connection between dif- 
ferent views of religion and the state of the affections ? ' 'Is 

there, in fact,' said , 'any difference, except in degree, 

between the moral characters of men who are accounted 
religious?' This is the most difficult question in religion. 
What is the nature of true virtue ? * How strange it is,' 
said D., ' that the first principles in morals should be so ob- 
scure ! ' Is there any real difference in kind between the 
religion of Dr. Doddridge and Dr. Lardner, for instance ? 
or does the difference result from natural temperament? 
The question is not to be determined by particular exam- 
ples, perhaps, but by a general comparison of religious 
men of all persuasions. The poetry of Watts and Dod- 
dridge is most fervent ; did this in any degree depend upon 
their views of doctrine, or on natural temperament ? " 

As this was the period of my brother's short life 
during which he enjoyed the greatest vigor of body and 
perhaps the most effective energy of mind, I am happy 
to be permitted to add the testimony of a friend, * then 
young and enthusiastic, indeed, who visited him at this 
time. 

" My recollections of Mr. Buckminster are exceedingly 
vivid, as well as somewhat minute ; 'for they are among 
the most cherished recollections of my whole life ; but then 
you must bear in mind, that, when I knew him, I was but a 
boy of fifteen, and I never saw him except for the few 
days which I then spent in his family. I will tell you liter- 
ally everything that I can remember concerning him 

"About this time, Mr. Abbot, of Coventry, Conn., whose 
pupil I was, in consequence of having declared himself a 
Unitarian, was arraigned by the Consociation of Tolland 

* Rev. Dr. Sprague, of Albany. 



LETTER OF REV. DR. SPRAGUE. 369 

county for heresy, and dismissed from his charge, and, as 
the phrase then was, ' silenced.' He, however, refused to 
acknowledge the jurisdiction of the body that tried him, 
and continued some time, by request of the parish, to 
officiate as usual. The parish and himself agreed to call 
another council, to whose adjudication the existing difficul- 
ties should be referred ; and this council consisted chiefly 
of clergymen from Boston and -the vicinity. Mr. Abbot, I 
think, more to gratify me than for anything else, proposed 

to me to go to Boston and carry the letters missive 

" It was by no means among the least important of the 
circumstances which I anticipated in connection with my 
journey, that it would give me the opportunity of seeing 
Mr. Buckminster ; for besides hearing Mr. Abbot talk of 
him in terms of unmeasured praise, I had read his sermon 
on Governor Sullivan over and over, with the greatest admi- 
ration, so that I could repeat large portions of it. Mr. Abbot 
gave me a letter to him, and directed me to call upon him 
immediately on my arrival in Boston. Accordingly, on 
reaching Boston, I found my way to the Brattle Street Church 
parsonage, and was met at the door by a gentleman, dressed 
in a sort of gray frock-coat,* with whose appearance I was 
exceedingly struck, of whom I inquired if Mr. Buckminster 
was at home. He said yes, and asked me to walk in. 
After conversing with him for some time, and not dreaming 
that he was Mr. Buckminster, and yet wondering what more 
Mr. Buckminster could be, I asked him if I was right in 
supposing him to say that Mr. Buckminster was at home. 
' O, yes,' he replied, ' I am he.' I then gave him my letter, 
which he read ; and, after making an inquiry or two concern- 

* This was a half-military frock-coat of iroii gray, which he had 
made to travel in during his journey on the Continent, at a time when 
the military costume alone commanded respect. After his return, the 
embroidery was taken off the collar, and it served him as a study 
coat for several years. 



370 LETTER OF REV. DR. SPRAGUE. 

ing Mr. Abbot, be told me that I must come and stay with 
him while I remained in Boston. I asked him to excuse 
me, though for no other reason than that I feared it would 
be indelicate for me to accept the invitation. He said he 
should not excuse me, and that I must stay and make him 
a visit ; that he would show me the town, etc. The short 
of it was, that he insisted upon sending for my luggage, 
and I stayed in his house, in all, nearly a week. 

" One of the first things he did was to accompany me 
to see Dr. Lathrop, to whom I had a letter (missive) from 
Mr. Abbot. The old gentleman came out of his study, 
wearing an immense gown, and said that he was busy, 
writing Dr. Eckley's funeral sermon, but found it very 

difficult to get into his subject I think it was upon 

leaving Dr. Lathrop's that he took me to the- top of the 
Exchange, which, he said, commanded the best view of the 
town ; and then he pointed out to me various interesting 
objects, of which I had often heard, but which I saw then 
for the first time. He wished me to feel entirely at home, 
and to stay with him in his study whenever it was pleasant 
to me ; and I assure you that it was so pleasant to me, that 
I was little disposed to be anywhere else. I had from my 
childhood a passion for reading eloquent sermons, ancf es- 
pecially for gathering pamphlets ; and, having found in a 
corner of his study a quantity of pamphlets stowed away, 
I set myself to examining them. When he saw what I was 
about, he laughed a little at what he thought my odd taste, 
but told me to keep at it and to select from the mass for 
myself whatever I cared for; and I actually took him at 
his word, and selected enough to make a large bundle. 

" Of course, my most important day with him was Sunday. 
I went with him to church in the morning, and heard him 
preach and administer the communion. The subject of 
his discourse was baptism. It was, so far as I remember, 
entirely of a didactic character. I have an idea that it 



LETTER OF REV. DR. SPRAGUE. 371 

was not among his most eloquent productions ; and yet 
everything that he said operated . upon me like a charm. 
The tones of his voice have not ceased to vibrate upon my 
ears to this day ; and I often try to render my impressions 
of them more vivid, by an attempt to imitate them. I do 
not remember that there was much passion evinced in his 
manner, but there was a calm dignity, an inimitable grace- 
fulness of attitude and gesture, a countenance radiant with 
intelligence and benevolence, and, above all, an impressive 
solemnity that spoke of the reality and the depth of his con- 
victions, such as I do not remember ever to have witnessed 
in the same admirable combination. I recollect that he 
prayed with his eyes open, elevated at an angle of about 
forty-five degrees, and perfectly fixed. I had never seen 
the same thing before, and it was then, as it is still, a matter 
of wonder how he could do it. In the afternoon, he preached 
a sermon with some reference to the death of Dr. Eckley, 
which he wrote while I was with him in his study, but which 
I did not hear him preach : I heard Dr. Griffin at Park Street. 

" After the second service, he appeared greatly exhaust- 
ed 

" In the evening, Mr. William Wells, and some other 
gentlemen whose names I do not recollect, came and passed 
an hour or two ;n his study, and he took his full share in 
the conversation. 

" Though I remained several days with him at this time, 
he told me that I must be sure and come and see him again 
on my return from Beverly, and some other places which 
I had occasion to visit. I assure you I needed nothing 
more than an invitation to bring me back to him ; and when 
I came back, he greeted me with as much affection as if he 
had been my father. On the morning that I finally left 
him, he handed me a little note, which he asked me to de- 
liver at Mr. Wells's bookstore, containing a request that he 
would give me, on his account, a copy of ' Griesbach's 



372 LETTER OF REV. DR. SFRAGUE. 

New Testament,' which he had then just edited, and of 
' Walker's Key, etc.,' the latter of which, he said, was de- 
signed to aid me in attaining a correct pronunciation. Un- 
fortunately, my old horse was so loaded down with other 
treasures that he had given me, particularly in the way of 
pamphlets, that I was obliged to leave these more valuable 
books behind ; and alas ! they were sold with his library." * 

, The same writer adds : — 

" It might seem like affectation if I were to tell you how 
much his death affected me ; or, indeed, if I were to tell 
you with what warmth and depth of affection I have cher- 
ished his memory ever since. I think of him always as 
the most lovely, the most beautiful, the most exalted form 
of humanity. I have met with many persons who cherish 
a grateful and exalted impression both of his gifts and his 
virtues ; but, strange as you may think it, I have never met 
with one who seemed to love and venerate his memory as 
I do myself. I confess that it is to myself somewhat of a 
mystery. Doubtless something must be allowed for the in- 
fluence of a young imagination, and for some other peculiar 
circumstances attending my visit, v#iich I have not men- 
tioned ; but, however it may be accounted for, certain it is, 
that, to this day, there is scarcely a name among the dead 
that is embalmed in my heart amidst such warm and grateful 
recollections as the name of Buckminster. I have never 
hesitated to bear this testimony to his exalted character, 
though his religious views, I suppose, were materially 
different from my own. His published sermons, however, 
contain little to which Christians of any denomination would 
find occasion to object. I have in my mind, at this moment, 

* The Greek Testament was finally recovered. It was bought at 
the sale of Mr. Buckminster's library, by Rev. Mr. Huntington, and 
cheerfully relinquished at the request of Mr. Everett. 



REMINISCENCES BY REV. DR. PIERCE. 373 

two or three of the greatest lights of the 'orthodox' 
pulpit, who have pronounced his sermons quite unrivalled 
in that department of composition.* Robert Southey spoke 
of them to me as decidedly among the finest in the lan- 
guage." 

To the above I have the privilege of adding an 
extract from the diary of the Rev. Dr. Pierce, of 
Brookline, written at the time of his death, and express- 
ing the prevalent feeling of the community. After- 
speaking of his return from Europe, Dr. Pierce goes on 
to say : — 

" His study became the resort of the first scholars among 
us ; and his company was equally sought by people of fash- 
ion, of literature, and of religion. Every society, whether 
for science, humanity, or religion, was desirous of enrolling 
him among its members. He was a member of the Ameri- 
can Academy of Arts and Sciences, of the Historical So- 
ciety, of the Humane Society, of the Massachusetts Chari- 
table Fire Society, of the Christian Monitor Society, and 
Corresponding Secretary of the Bible Society of Massachu- 
setts. He preached an acceptable sermon before the Fe- 
male Asylum, which he declined to publish. The last ser- 
mon that he wrote he delivered before the Christian Monitor 
Society.f 

" He was principally instrumental in inducing the Rev. 
Noah Worcester to forsake the retirement he loved, and 
come into the vicinity of Boston and Cambridge, where he 

* " The gentlemen referred to are Dr. Samuel Stanhope Smith, of 
Princeton, Dr. Inglis, of Baltimore, and Dr. Romaine, of New York." 

t He was also an honorary member of the New York Historical 
Society, an officer of the Society just created for the Improvement of 
Seamen, and, at the time of his death, one of the School Committee 
of Boston. 

32 



374 REMINISCENCES BY REV. DR. PIERCE. 

ceased not but with life to cooperate with the friends of 
peace and of liberal Christianity. 

M Mr. Buckminster was rather below the common size, 
muscular, and well proportioned. His countenance was ex- 
tremely expressive, lighted up with eyes irresistibly fasci- 
nating. His manners were highly polished, but perhaps 
no person was ever farther removed from flattery. On the 
other hand, he was exceedingly open-hearted, and often 
told people truths which would hardly have been tolerated 
from any other person. He was the delight of the ladies ; 
but never did he procure their favor by studied attentions, 
and perhaps no lady ever suspected herself to be the object 
of them. In small circles, he was usually sociable ; but 
sometimes he would appear absent in company, probably 
from the circumstance that he had not completely relaxed 
his mind from the last pursuit in which he was engaged. 

" His brethren of the Boston Association will long re- 
member the pleasure and instruction which he never failed 
to impart to their circle ; with what readiness he entered into 
their sympathies ; what light he cast upon 4heir most per- 
plexing topics ; and what assistance he afforded in their 
most embarrassing situations. 

" In the pulpit, Mr. Buckminster ranked among the very 7 
first preachers which this or any other country has pro- 
duced. His sermons were written in a style, simple, ner- 
vous, perspicuous, adorned with captivating figures. It was 
impossible to withhold attention from him. He seemed to 
have a perfect command of his audience, and, as occasion 
required, he could at once excite all the lively emotions of 
the soul. His peculiar excellence consisted in portraying 
characters. Hence some of his most acceptable sermons 
have been those which treated of the characters of Peter, of 
Paul, of Philemon, and of Christ. He had the faculty, as a 
preacher, of interesting those who would be interested in 
the services of no other man. Under his preaching, it is 



REMINISCENCES BY REV. DR. ABEOT. 375 

believed that many have been induced to attend to the sub- 
ject of religion in earnest, who might otherwise have been 
slumbering in indifference.'" * 

The venerable clergyman mentioned in the letter of 
Dr. Sprague, now living at the age of eighty, f writes 
thus : — 

" No person could become acquainted with Mr. Buckmin- 
ster without loving him. He was a perfect man. On see- 
ing him once, his image could not be blotted from the mind. 
I am greatly indebted to his kindness. When feeling 
obliged, by my situation, to give the Trinitarian hypothesis a 
thorough examination, I wrote to Dr. Kirkland, requesting 
him to purchase for me the best treatises on the Trinitarian, 
Arian, and Socinian hypotheses. He sent in the package a 
number of books from Mr. Buckminster, having his name 
in them. When the consociation was convoked at Coventry, 
I wrote to him, requesting his advice. Afterwards, at Bos- 
ton, he introduced me to his brethren. When I asked him 
if he would be one of a mutual council, if one was called, 
he advised me to invite older men than himself." 

The answer to the letter referred to in the last ex- 
tract is here introduced : — 

"Boston, Jan. 12th, 1811. 

"My dear Sir,' — I have delayed writing to you till the 
present time for several reasons ; the principal of which 
was, however, that I might be able to write more positively 
on the subject about which you are most interested. It ap- 
pears to me, that, if you are compelled to call an exparle 
council, it should be composed of the most grave and ex- 
perienced men you can procure. I presume, from what 
you have before said, that Dr. Dana and Dr. Lee could be 

* From the diary of Rev. John Pierce, D. D., June, 1812. 
f Rev. Abiel Abbot, D. D., now of Peterborough, N. H. 



376 LETTER TO DR. ABBOT. 

obtained from Connecticut, and these, united with Drs. 
Reed and Sanger, of Bridgewater, Kendall, of Weston, Ban- 
croft, of Worcester, etc., and, perhaps, one or two more 
from this town, would compose a sufficiently large and re- 
spectable assembly. I find that Dr. Pierce, of Brookline, 
absolutely declines, and so, I fear, would Mr. Channing. In 
speaking with the latter on the subject, his impressions 
seemed to be that it was not proper to send to ministers so 
young, or of so short standing in the Church, as himself. 

"If a vote of censure, or of excommunication, should 
pass against you in the consociation, I presume you will con- 
tinue to preach and minister to those who still choose to at- 
tend upon your ministry in Coventry. This, I think, is due 
to their attachment to you. If any part of the Church re- 
main with you, I see not what you will gain by the calling 
of an exparte council, except it be the form of a regular 
ministerial character, and you can best tell whether that is 
of much consequence in the minds of your friends in Cov- 
entry. If the council should be thought important, perhaps 
it is not immediately necessary, and might be deferred till 
the season is milder. I wish, that, if a council is called, 
it should be very respectable, and that, to the names al- 
ready mentioned, Dr. Osgood's might be added ; but noth- 
ing, I fear, would persuade him to leave home in winter. 
" I am faithfully yours, 

"J. S.B. 

" P. S. If you wish to print any statement of facts, I 
will take care to get it done without expense to you." 

It has been already mentioned by Dr. Pierce, that 
Mr. Buckminster was principally instrumental in inducing 
the venerable Noah Worcester to come to the vicinity 
of Boston. The writer well remembers the surprise 
and enthusiasm which her brother expressed at the first 



NOAH WORCESTER. 377 

appearance of " Bible News," and the sanguine hope 
he felt that it would aid the cause of free inquiry, and 
ultimately of truth. When its author first visited Bos- 
ton, he was the welcome guest of his young friend at 
the parsonage, and both Joseph and his sister were 
charmed by the patriarchal simplicity, the genuine and 
fascinating urbanity and good sense, of their guest. My 
brother died before Dr. Worcester could remove to the 
vicinity of Boston ; and it has been remarked to the 
writer, by a near relative, that he was overwhelmed with 
grief at the death of his young friend, and felt that 
much of the happiness he expected from his change of 
residence was gone. 

The venerable author of one of the last extracts 
speaks of the general character of his attentions to the 
other sex, and the interest with which he was regarded 
by them. Although, in God's providence, he was 
never permitted to form those intimate ties which are 
so necessary to hearts fitted, as was his, to feel every 
tender emotion, yet, had he lived to reach middle age, 
surely to him would have been opened that fairest page 
in the book of life, when every duty and every care 
would have been lightened, and "the face of nature 
made radiant with the light of love." No one can 
have read his sermon on " The Influence of Chris- 
tianity upon the Character of the Female Sex," and 
the sentiments scattered everywhere in his writings, 
and not feel that he had the most generous, the most 
impartial, and the most true appreciation of the nature 
of woman ; no one can have remarked the frequent 
pathos of his expressions, when speaking of the sorrows 
of human hearts, and not feel that they were derived from 
32* 



378 LETTER ON; MARRIAGE. 

real sensibility. A passage from a letter to a young 
person, upon her intended marriage, shows how fully he 
understood what must enter into the union to form a 
happy marriage. 

" My dear : — I have long wished to find time for 

writing you a letter, more valuable than mine usually are, 
upon a subject extremely interesting to you and therefore 

to your friend. Mr. has impressed me in the most 

favorable manner, and, for what I have not seen, I am wil- 
ling to take your word. But, my dear friend, if I had not 
every reason to coincide with you in opinion of him, to 
whom you have given the rich treasure of your love, I 
should yet say, that a sincere and pious affection on both 
sides is a sufficient ground for hopeful confidence in this 
union. Time will form two pure and amiable souls for 
each other, and religious principle, under the smiles of 
Heaven, even in cases where superficial observers may not 
see any peculiar coincidence of character, will mould your 
dispositions into an harmonious and ever-increasing unity 
of feeling. As you learn each other's tastes, views, and 
principles, the love and fear of God, mingling with your 
hopes for earth, will blend into a beautiful harmony for 
eternity. 

" You have been tutored in one of the best schools in the 
world, and under the best religious influences. If you 
should be married, the sphere of your cares and duties will 
hardly be enlarged, though the sources of your happiness 
will be multiplied. You will not indulge, I know, in great 
expectations from the world and its pleasures, wherever you 
may live ; yet, as your chiefest joy will be in your family, 
and in seeing those under your influence blessed by your 
example, you may expect much happiness without being 
disappointed. May God bless you, my dear friend, and 



ON FEMALE CHARACTER. 379 

bring you nearer to me, to increase my social blessings, 
and to improve, by your example, the often feeble virtues 
of your friend, 

" J. S. B." 

An extract from one of his sermons is given, to show 
that he fully appreciated the character of woman. He 
is addressing the Managers of the Female Asylum for 
Orphan Children : — 

" Accustomed more to retirement than to active life, you 
have more leisure, and consequent disposition, for religious 
contemplations. It is also infinitely honorable to your char- 
acter that you ever feel a secret sympathy with a religion 
which unlocks all the sources of benevolent affection, which 
smiles on every exercise of compassion and every act of 
kindness. We may say, too, that your hearts, not hardened 
by the possession of power, the pains of avarice, or the 
emulations of public life, are more alive to the accents of 
pardon by Jesus Christ, more awake to the glories of the in- 
visible world. The Gospel came to throw a charm over 
domestic life, and, in retirement, the first objects that it 
found were mothers and their children. It came to bind up 
the broken-hearted, and, for that office, woman was always 
best prepared. It came to heal the sick, and woman was 
already waiting at their couches. It came to open the gates 
of life upon the languid eye of the dying penitent, and 
woman was everywhere to be seen, softly tending at the 
pillow, and closing the eyes of the departing 

" I believe, that, if Christianity should be compelled to 
flee from the mansions of the great, the academies of phi- 
losophers, the halls of legislation, or the throng of busy men, 
we should find her last and purest retreat with woman, at 
the fireside ; her last altar would be the female heart ; her 
last audience would be the children gathered round the 



3S0 SISTERLY LOVE. 

knees of a mother ; her last sacrifice, the secret prayer es- 
caping in silence from her lips, and heard only at the throne 
of God/' 

With such appreciation of the tenderness of woman, 
we must regret that he lived unmarried ; but, during a 
part of his short life, he was not unaccompanied by the 
truest, the most faithful and single-hearted affection . 
The sister, who was so fortunate as to be his guardian, 
watched over him with more than a sister's love. In 
the attacks of his malady by night, hers was like the in- 
stinctive vigilance of a mother ; the wing of the night- 
moth was sufficient to w-ake her, and bring her, like the 
mother, to the couch of her sleeping treasure. 

" But let him grieve, who cannot choose but grieve, 
That he hath been an elm without his vine, 
And her bright dower of clustering charities, 
That round his trunk and branches might have clung 
Enriching and adorning. Unto thee, 
Not so enriched, not so adorned, to thee 
Was given a sister, 

In whom thy reason and intelligent heart 
Found — for all interests, hopes, and tender cares, 
All softening, bumanizing, hallowing powers — 
More than sufficient recompense." * 

* Wordsworth. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

SERMON ON THE DEATH OF GOVERNOR SULLIVAN. LETTER 

ON DUELLING. BIBLE SOCIETY. ADDRESS BEFORE THE 

SOCIETY OF 3>. B. K. THE ATHEN^UM. 

1809. The chapter begins with an extract from 

Aged 25. the journal of this year. 

" January 2d. A new year has begun. In looking back 
upon the events of my life the last year, I perceive little 
or no improvement. Sure I am that my stock of theo- 
logical knowledge has not been increased, though I have rea- 
son to hope that my sermons for the last year have not been 
inferior to any preceding ones. In the trials to which God 
has exposed me, I endeavour to discern the designs of his 
providence. The disorder to which I am still subjected ought 
to be to me a perpetual lesson of humility and dependence. 
I have sometimes thought, that, if our powers and state of 
mind in another world depend at all upon the condition of 
the intellect when we leave this, I should prefer to die be- 
fore my mind shall be debilitated by this disorder. May this 
consideration, with others, tend to keep me in a state of 
perpetual willingness and readiness to depart. 

" My greatest trial the past year has been the attack upon 
my selection of hymns for the use of Brattle Street Church. 
I cannot but think it insidious and impertinent. If I have 
indulged in any improper feelings towards the supposed 
author, I pray God to forgive me. At least, I hope they do 



382 EXTRACT FROM THE DIARY OF MR. BUCKMINSTER. 

not appear Id my reply. I have hitherto refrained, and shall 
refrain, from reading the author's rejoinder, because, since 
my friends tell me there is nothing in it requiring a reply, 
I know not why I should put my tranquillity to the test which 
the perusal would occasion. As to the principal and most 
important charge in the review, of undeclared alterations, 
I can put down here what it was not necessary to tell the 
public, that I did not know of them till they were pointed 
out to me by the reviewer. I took the hymns, without any 
alteration of my own, from the collection of Dr. Kippis.* 

" I fear that the state of my affections has not been im- 
proved the last year ; yet I hope I have learned some 
humility from the public and the secret opposition which 
has been made to me as a minister. May God make my 
motives pure and simple, and give me, this year, which is 
now beginning, a deeper interest in the religious state of my 
parish, and less concern for my own reputation." 

In January of this year, was published the first ser- 
mon which he ever gave to the press. It was oc- 
casioned by the death of His Excellency, James Sulli- 
van. Governor Sullivan had been one of the most con- 
stant and zealous of his friends. He was chairman of 
the Brattle Street Parish Committee, and all his in- 
tercourse with his pastor had been marked by the most 
courteous, considerate, and affectionate friendship. 

In this connection is introduced a letter to Governor 
Sullivan, upon the subject of duelling. The corre- 
spondence arose from an animated conversation at the 
table of the Governor, in which the subject was dis- 
cussed and defended. 

" My dear Sir, — I know not whether you expected 
* The. reference is to a review in the " Panoplist." 



LETTER ON DUELLING. 383 

a reply to the letter with which you favored me yesterday 
morning ; but, upon reading it, I am strongly tempted to put 
down a i'ew thoughts on paper, and should have done it 
yesterday, but all my time was taken up in preparation for 
to-day. By sending these lines, however, I have no inten- 
tion of drawing you into a troublesome discussion of the 
question of duelling. 

" I thank you for your explanation of what I uttered, 
perhaps, too hastily, — that I would knock a man down who 
should insult me in the street. How far it would be con- 
sistent with the spirit of a Christian I dare not say ; but, at 
any rate, I meant only to express the probable effect of 
strong passion, irresistibly excited in a mind so imperfectly 
regulated as my own. I do not think, however, that this 
affords any parallel to the revenge taken in a duel, because 
the first is done. in sudden passion, the last in cool blood. 

" Allow me, also, though I am sensible of my ignorance 
of law, to question whether the cases you have stated, 
where murder in defence of one's reputation is softened 
by our laws into homicide, are parallel to that of the 
duellist, who deliberately kills a man out of regard to his 
own reputation. ( Though it is permitted to kill an adulterer, 
the act is justified, I conceive, not because it is done out 
of regard to reputation, but because it is a provocation which 

excites immediate passionate resentment The case 

is the same with a woman who kills another in defence of 
her chastity. There is an additional reason, too, in this 
last instance, to justify the murder, and that is, that, if she 
had it in her power, and did not kill the man, she never 
could prove to the world that she did not in some measure 
consent to the act. In the other instances which you ad- 
duce, when a man is killed in the act of breaking into your 
house in the night, or of taking your purse on the high- 
way in the dark, the murder is palliated, not because it is 
committed in defence of your property ; for if this were the 



384 LETTER ON DUELLING. 

reason, it would be equally justifiable to kill the one in the 
day-time, and the other when he offered no violence, or 
craftily picked your pocket in the day-time. 

" If duelling were any redress of the supposed injury, 
(which it plainly is not, because the chance of being killed 
is equal to the injurer and the injured, and, even if the 
offender were always sure to fall, the other's character is 
not cleared in the sight of God or man,) yet I conceive 
that nothing can authorize us deliberately to seek satisfac- 
tion in the blood of a fellow-creature, in cases where we 
ourselves are the unauthorized judges of the injury re- 
ceived, and where there is no standard but our own feel- 
ings, or the fickle opinions of the world, by which the in- 
jury can be estimated. If the unauthorized laws of honor 
may be allowed to create exceptions to express commands 
of God, there is an end of all laws, human and Divine. If 
a man may redress his own wrongs by killing his neigh- 
bour, when he cannot appeal to the social compact for de- 
fence and remuneration, I see not why he may not chal- 
lenge him for not taking off his hat to him ir> the street, as 
well as for insulting him more grossly. I see not why a 
man may not make his own notions of honor the standard, 
as well as the opinions of the world the umpire. 

" My dear Sir, the only question on this subject is this : 
whether a regard for our own reputation is sufficient to 

justify us in deliberately taking the life of another 

When, after these secular reasons, I turn to the spirit 
of Christian morality, I can hardly forgive myself for pro- 
posing the question. Excuse the haste and inaccuracy with 
which these lines are written. I presume my remarks are 
already familiar to your own mind, and I must request your 
indulgence for venturing to suggest them. 

" Yours, with friendship and respect, 

"J. S. B." 



MASSACHUSETTS BIBLE SOCIETY. 385 

In July of this year was formed the Massachusetts 
Bible Society. The public were prepared for it by an 
address which appeared in the journals of the day. The 
first Corresponding Secretary of the Society was Joseph 
S. Buckminster. The address was written by him ; it 
was circulated very extensively in the country, and was 
afterwards published at some length, with distinguished 
praise, in the Report of the British and Foreign Bible 
Society. A few extracts from this address follow : — 

" You are invited, Christians, to lend your aid to the dis- 
tribution of the Bible. The revealed word of God is, and 
ever has been, the source of what is most valuable in 
human knowledge, most salutary in human institutions, most 
pure in human affections, comfortable in human condition, 
desirable and glorious in human expectations. Without 
it, man returns to a state of nature, ignorant, depraved, 
and helpless, — left without assurances of pardon, and lost 
to the way of recovery and life. It is the pearl of great 
price, to buy which the merchant in the parable sold all 
that he had, and yet was rich. Without this, wealth is 
poor, and the treasures of ancient wisdom and modern 
science a mass of inanimate knowledge 

" It was the most glorious consequence of the Reforma- 
tion to draw forth the Book of God from the obscurity in 
which it had been kept, and, by giving translations in the 
vernacular tongues, to throw open its treasures to the peo- 
ple, and thus also to secure them for ever against its future 
loss. It was the unsealing of the fountain of life, that its 
waters might flow freely for the healing of the people. We, 
too, in New England, ought never to forget, that, to preserve 
the authority of this Book unimpaired, and to enjoy the 
privilege of a free conscience, enlightened and emboldened 
by its truth, our forefathers crossed the ocean with little 
33 



386 MASSACHUSETTS BIELE SOCIETY. 

more than this volume in their hands, and its spirit in their 
hearts ; and if there is now in the character and circum- 
stances of their posterity anything worth preserving, to 
this Book are we to trace the good which remains, and to 
look also for the improvement which is to come 

" He who ' came to preach the Gospel to the poor, to 
bind up the broken-hearted, to preach deliverance to the 
captives, and recovery of sight to the blind,' when he was 
reading this very passage out of the Book of God in the Jew- 
ish synagogue, added, ' This day is this Scripture fulfilled 
in your ears.'' Christians, we call on you to accomplish 
this prediction among us, by sending the Gospel, all simple 
and salutary as it is, wherever it may be wanted ; — to the 
dwellings of the poor and distressed ; to the huts of the 
distant and solitary ; to the chamber of the prisoner and 
the cell of the criminal ; and last, though not least, to the 
bedside of the old, whose eyes, dimmed with the rheum 

of age, can yet spell out its contents In short, 

if in some cases we can only prolong the pleasures of aged 
Christians by furnishing them with more legible copies of 
their favorite volume, we shall not lose our reward with 
him who cannot forget the gift of a cup of cold water in 
his name to one of his little ones 

" The influence of early instruction in the Scriptures is 
sometimes sufficient to form the destiny and give the color to 
the whole of life. It is an influence of which many culti- 
vated and uncultivated minds have been conscious, even after 
they have too much relinquished the good habits of their 
childhood, and, among them, the reading of the Bible. 
The want of this Book in a rising family, where the parents 
are poor and indifferent, the children ignorant and rude, 
and left without the chance of gaining any religious ideas, 
is a subject of serious thought to the philanthropist, who 
only looks forward to the character of the next generation. 
For from these another race is to be propagated, and in 



ORATION BEFORE THE * B K SOCIETY. 387 

this new country perhaps other and vast regions peopled. 
Need it be added, that the Christian philanthropist is obliged 
to follow these fearful consequences to another and an eter- 
nal state of existence, where it will be too late to instruct 
those we have neglected here, and where our charity can 
neither ransom nor relieve ? " 

In August of this year, 1809, he was appointed to 
deliver the Discourse before the Society of Phi Beta 
Kappa, at Harvard College. This is always considered 
a distinguished honor. It is an exhilarating occasion. 
The discourse is addressed to the aristocracy of letters 
in this corner of the world, with the talent, learning, and 
beauty of the neighbourhood for an audience. He 
chose for his subject " The Dangers and Duties of 
Men of Letters." Read now, after the lapse of forty 
years, it has all the charm and freshness of a composition 
of the day. 

Some passages of this address are as applicable to the 
state of our country now as at the time when they were 
delivered. 

" Is there a man who now hears me, who would not 
rather belong to an enlightened and virtuous community 
than to the mightiest empire of the world, distinguished 
only • by its vastness ? If there is, let him cast his eye 
along the records of states. What do we know of the vast, 
unlettered empires of the East? The far-extended con- 
quests of the Assyrian hardly detain us a moment in the 
annals of the world, while the little state of Athens will for 
ever be the delight of the historian and the pride of letters, — 
preserving, by the genius of her writers, the only remem- 
brance of the barbarian powers which overwhelmed her. 
To come down to our own times : who would not rather have 
been a citizen of the free and polished republic of Geneva, 



3S8 ORATION BEFORE THE * B K SOCIETY. 

than wander a prince in the vast dominions of the Czar, or 
bask in the beams of the present emperor of a desolated 
continent ? 

" In the usual course of national aggrandizement, it is al- 
most certain that those of you who shall attain to old age 
will find yourselves the citizens of an empire unparalleled 
in extent ; but is it probable that you will have the felicity of 
belonging to a nation of men of letters? The review of 
our past literary progress does not authorize very lofty ex- 
pectations, neither does it leave us entirely without hope for 
the lettered honor of our country. 

" Our poets and historians, our critics and orators, the 
men in whom posterity are to stand in awe, and by whom 
they are to be instructed, are yet to appear among us. The 
men of letters who are to direct our taste, mould our genius, 
and inspire our emulation, — the men, in fact, whose writings 
are to be the depositories of our national greatness, — have 
not yet shown themselves to the world. But, if we are not 
mistaken in the signs of the times, the genius of our literature 
begins to show symptoms of vigor, and to meditate a bolder 
flight, and the generation which is to succeed us will be 
formed on better models, and leave a brighter track. The 
spirit of criticism begins to plume itself, and education, as it 
assumes a more learned form, will take a higher aim. If 
we are not misled by our hopes, the dream of ignorance is 
at least disturbed, and there are signs that the period is ap- 
proaching in which it will be said of our country, " Tuus 
jam regnat Apollo." You, my young friends, are des- 
tined to witness the dawn of our Augustan age, and to con- 
tribute to its glory." 

One other passage is added, upon the moral defects 
to which scholars are exposed : — 

" The moral defects and faults of temper, to which schol- 



ORATION BEFORE THE $ B K SOCIETY. 389 

ars are exposed, are not peculiar to any country. It is 
everywhere the natural tendency of a life of retirement and 
contemplation to generate the notion of innocence and moral 
security ; but men of letters should remember, that, in the 
eye of reason and Christianity, simple unprofitableness is al- 
ways a crime. They should know, too, that there are soli- 
tary diseases of the imagination, not less fatal to the mind 
than the vices of society. He who pollutes his fancy with 
his books may in fact be more culpable than he who is se- 
duced into the haunts of debauchery by the force of passion 
or example. He who, by his sober studies, only feeds his 
selfishness or his pride of knowledge, may be more to blame 
than the pedant or the coxcomb in literature, though not so 
ridiculous. That learning, whatever it may be, which lives 
and dies with the possessor, is more worthless than his 
wealth which descends to his posterity ; and where the heart 
remains uncultivated and the affections sluggish, the mere 
man of curious erudition may stand indeed as an object of 
popular admiration, but he stands like the occasional pal- 
aces of ice in the regions of the north, the work of vanity, 
lighted up with artificial lustre, yet cold, useless, and unin- 
habited, and soon to pass away without leaving a trace of 
their existence. You, then, who feel yourselves sinking 
under the gentle pressure of sloth, or who seek in learned 
seclusion that moral security which is the reward only of 
virtuous resolution, remember, you do not escape from 
temptations, much less from responsibility, by retiring to 

the repose and silence of your libraries The 

infirmities of noble minds are often so consecrated by their 
greatness that an unconscious imitation of their peculiari- 
ties, which are real defects, may sometimes be pardoned in 
their admirers. But to copy their vices, or to hunt in their 
works for those very lines which, when dying, they would 
most wish to blot, is a different offence. I know of nothing 
in literature so unpardonable as this. He who poaches 
33* 



390 ORATION BEFORE THE * B K SOCIETY. 

among the labors of the learned only to find what there is 
polluted in their language or licentious in their works — 
he who searches the biographies of men of genius to find 
precedents for his follies or palliations of his own stupid 
depravity — can be compared to nothing more appropri- 
ately than to the man who should walk through the gal- 
lery of antiques, and every day gaze upon the Apollo, the 
Venus, or the Laocoon, and yet bring away an imagination 
impressed with nothing but the remembrance that they were 
naked." 

The whole of this address would repay, even at this 
day, a careful perusal ; and, though forty years have 
passed since it was written, the age has not advanced 
beyond its demands. It is rich in eloquent thought, 
and sparkling with gems of poetry. It must be recol- 
lected, that the author lived and died before the appear- 
ance of those magicians of our age, to whom we owe 
such treasures of delight ; before Scott's novels had 
given to history more than the charm of romance ; be- 
fore Byron had found such depths of tragic element 
within the human heart ; before the transcendentalism of 
Coleridge, and Wordsworth, and Channing, had become 
familiar forms of speech, and Carlyle and Dickens had 
taught us to look from the ruffled and spotted plumage 
of society to the bleeding heart within. Yet truth and 
nature and poetry were the same, and the study of them 
had been, to him, " their own exceeding great reward." 
There was nothing, even in those compositions of his, 
which were written just as he emerged from boyhood, 
of morbid excess, or of repining sensibility ; and yet 
there was that in his prospect of early death, or of a 
worse calamity, to which they might have been for- 
given ; his habits of study, his devotion to truth, his 



LETTER OF PRESIDENT EVERETT. 391 

entire reliance upon the paternal character of God, gave 
him a perpetual joy in the intellectual gifts he had re- 
ceived, and an entire acquiescence in the providence 
which should call him to part with them. 

To the above I am permitted to add the testimony 
of one whose words are ever chosen, appropriate, and 
weighty, and whose genius seems to the writer kindred 
to his who, at so early an age, made so deep and perma- 
nent an impression on his memory. The Hon. Edward 
Everett thus recalls his impressions of the oration in 
question : — 

" If I should attempt to fix the period at which I first 
felt all the power of Mr. Buckminster's influence, it would 
be at the delivery of his oration before the Phi Beta Kappa 
Society, in August, 1809 ; at which time I had been two 
years in college, but still hardly emerged from boyhood. 
That address, although the standard of merit for such per- 
formances is higher now than it was then, will, I think, still 
be regarded as one of the very best of its class, admirably 
appropriate, thoroughly meditated, and exquisitely wrought. 
It unites sterling sense, sound and various scholarship, pre- 
cision of thought, the utmost elegance of style, without 
pomp or laborious ornament, with a fervor and depth of 
feeling truly evangelical. These qualities, of course, are 
preserved in the printed text of the oration. But the inde- 
scribable charm of his personal appearance and manner, — 
the look, the voice, the gesture and attitude, the unstudied 
outward expression of the inward feeling, — of these no 
idea can be formed by those who never heard him. A bet- 
ter conception of what they might have been may probably 
be gathered from the contemplation of Stuart's portrait 
than from any description. I can never look at it without 
fancying I catch the well-remembered expression of the liv- 



392 LETTER OF PRESIDENT EVERETT. 

ing eye, at once gentle and penetrating, and hear the most 
melodious voice, as I firmly believe, that ever passed the 

lips of man 

" I will only add, that I think he possessed, in a greater 
degree than I have seen them combined in one person, an 
intellect of great acuteness and power, a brilliant imagina- 
tion, a sound, practical judgment, a taste for literary re- 
search of all sorts, and especially for critical learning, to- 
gether with an elevation of moral feeling approaching to 
austerity, (not in his judgments of others, but in his own 
sense of duty,) and a devotional spirit rapt and tender al- 
most beyond the measure of humanity. To repeat his own 
beautiful quotation, in the address above alluded to, in his 
case, if ever among men, — 

' True prayer 
Has flowed from lips wet with Castalian dews.' 

" All this he was at the age of twenty-eight, when he was 
taken from us. Had he lived to the ordinary age of man, it 
seems to me that he gave an early assurance that he pos- 
sessed those intellectual and moral endowments, which 
would have made him, in his profession, the foremost man 
of his country and time." 

There were other objects, upon which much of his 
time was employed, — objects of utility, that brought to 
him neither applause nor reputation. Among his papers 
are memoirs, subscriptions, and prefaces to books and 
proposals, which had only a temporary interest, and 
have passed away and are forgotten. Among those 
which have since assumed a permanent and increasing 
importance is the Athenaeum. His letters have shown 
how deep an anxiety he felt about its prosperity and in- 
fluence. In this year, or the next, he spent much time 
in assisting to arrange and classify the library, and 



THE BOSTON ATHEN.EUM. 393 

wrote the preface to the published catalogue. The cor- 
respondence between himself and Mr. William S. Shaw, 
while he was in Europe, although previous to this time, 
is introduced here. It will show how entire was the 
confidence placed in these two friends, and with what 
enthusiasm they entered into the business. In his pref- 
ace he says : — 

" The present catalogue will exhibit at once our riches 
and our poverty ; it will show to the world what we have 
amassed, and suggest to future benefactors what we yet 
hope to collect. When we recollect, that, four years ago, 
this institution existed only in the hopes and projects of a 
few reading men, and that, from a germ almost impercepti- 
ble, it has grown into the present generous establishment, 
we can hardly repress our exultation 

" If the time should ever come, which we fondly expect, 
when a superb structure shall be raised in this town, wherein 
to deposit the crowded treasures and the precious collec- 
tions of this literary institution, and the Historical Society 
shall consent to unite our common possessions upon the 
subject of American history, we shall then have approached 
nearer to the accomplishment of our darling object, tbe for- 
mation of an American Library worthy of the country." * 

" Boston, Dec. 1st, 1806. 
"Dear Buckminster, — I know you will be delighted 
to hear of the progress we have made in the reading-room 
and library, which has much surpassed the expectations of 
even the most sanguine of us. We have one hundred and 
sixty subscribers at ten dollars a year, consisting of the 
most respectable gentlemen in Boston, with the probability 

* The above extracts are taken from the manuscript of the preface, 
in my brother's handwriting. 



394 LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 

of having two hundred subscribers at least, the moment the 
rooms are opened. We have taken rooms in Congress 
Street, in what are called Joy's Buildings, which we shall 
occupy till the spring, when we expect to be able to procure 
more commodious rooms. We have had nearly a thousand 
volumes of valuable books presented to us, and one hun- 
dred and sixty dollars in cash. The institution is a very 
popular one, and there is a strong inclination discovered to 
patronize it on a very extensive plan, and I have very little 
doubt that in a few years we shall see a library in our be- 
loved Boston, inferior to none in i\.merica. If we do not, 
it will be owing altogether to want of exertion on the part 
of our literary men, whose duty it is to awake from their 
stupid lethargy, and to rescue our country from the scorn 
and derision which now lie so heavily upon her. 

" We propose that the whole property of the institution 
shall be vested in a number of trustees, not exceeding 
eleven, seven of whom to be chosen from the Anthology 
Society, the remaining four to be gentlemen out of the 
Society, the Trustees thus chosen to have the sole and 
exclusive management of the institution. Dr. Kirkland, 
Mr. Emerson, Peter Thacher, Walter, and myself, are chosen 
from the Anthology Society, and we intend to choose your 
honor to be one the moment you come home. Chief Justice 
Parsons, Mr. John Lowell, Mr. Freeman, we have also 
chosen, none of whom have yet made known their ac- 
ceptance but Mr. Parsons, who very readily complied with 
our request, much to the joy of us all. As soon as the 
Trustees can be called together, they are to choose a Presi- 
dent, Vice-President, Recording and Corresponding Secre- 
taries, Treasurer, &c. Mr. Parsons is to be chosen Presi- 
dent, Walter will probably be chosen Corresponding Secre- 
tary, and your humble servant, Recorder. 

" In drawing up the regulations, we have followed very 
closely the laws of the Athenaeum of Liverpool, for which 



LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 395 

I am greatly indebted to your kindness in transmitting 
immediately on your arrival at Liverpool. It is an admira- 
ble institution, and we intend to make ours as much like 
that as the different circumstances of the two countries will 
admit. I pray you to make it an object to collect as much 
information as will be in your power respecting all literary 
societies, catalogues of their libraries, their laws, &c, &c. 
They will be pleasant to have in our reading-room at least, 
and they may be made useful in America, to stimulate our 
countrymen to some important mental exertions. I wish 
you could be prevailed upon to avail yourself of the ad- 
vantages your residence in London this winter will afford 
you, to collect information relative to the literature of Eng- 
land, their colleges, their schools, their scientific institutions, 
their literary men, &c, &c, and publish a series of papers 
in our dearly cherished Anthology on the present state of 
English literature, which I am very certain would be novel, 
interesting, and useful to the people of this country. Write 
a series of letters from England to us in America, as 
Laharpe wrote from Paris to the Emperor Paul the First, 
of Russia. He was engaged in a correspondence with the 
Emperor for five years, which, since Laharpe's death, has 
been published in four volumes. He sent to the young 
prince all the literary and political news of Paris, and judged 
of men and books with all the freedom which a literary 
correspondence admits. The work is wonderfully inter- 
esting. It will be read by men of letters and men of 
fashion. The first will find much correct criticism, the sec- 
ond pleasant anecdote, and all variety, which, you know, is 
always charming. 

" I inclose to you with this a bill of exchange, payable 
to you, and drawn upon Samuel Williams, Esquire, for six 
hundred dollars, five hundred of which are to be expended 
in procuring books for the reading-room, and to be sent 
out as early in the spring as possible. The intention of 



396 LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 

the Trustees is to appropriate the money arising from sub- 
scriptions as follows : — After the necessary expenses of the 
institution are paid, the first object will be to provide for 
the rooms all the celebrated gazettes published in any part 
of the United States. The most interesting literary and 
political pamphlets in Europe and America, magazines, 
reviews, and scientific journals, in the English and French 
languages, London and Paris newspapers, SteePs Army and 
Navy List, Naval Chronicle, London and Paris booksellers' 
catalogues, parliamentary debates, bibliographical works, 
voyages and travels, valuable maps and charts. The ga- 
zettes and pamphlets of our own country we can of course 
procure without troubling you ; but we wish you to take 
such measures as will insure to us the early transmission 
of all interesting pamphlets published in England on im- 
portant subjects, the average amount for the year not to 
exceed three dollars per month ; that is, we are willing to 
appropriate thirty-six dollars a year of our funds for Eng- 
lish pamphlets, including booksellers' catalogues. If your 
friends, Mr. Sam. or Francis Williams, could be persuaded 
to undertake this commission after you leave England, they 
would be the best men in the world for this purpose. At 
any rate, we shall depend on your selecting some person 
of judgment, in whom we may confide for the punctual 
discharge of this part of our engagement to supply the 
room with English pamphlets. 

" English magazines, reviews, &c. These publications 
we have thought it most expedient to procure, for the present, 
at least, through the agency of Mr. William Skinner, an 
English gentleman connected with a house in London, 
whose card I inclose you, and would wish you to call upon 
them, and converse with them on the objects of the institu- 
tion, and urge upon them the necessity of most punctual 
communication. I inclose to you, with this, a list of all the 
publications we have ordered from England, with a request 



LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 397 

that you would order any others you should think proper. 
We wish particularly for Dr. Aikin's new magazine, the 
Athenseum, Arthur Aikin's Annual Review to be sent out 
in numbers, beginning with the first number of the fifth 
volume, and indeed for all the distinguished periodical jour- 
nals in England. If you think, therefore, that we have not 
ordered a sufficient number, you are at perfect liberty to 
make any additions you please. You will observe that we 
have only sent for three newspapers, — the Morning Chron- 
icle, the Courier, and Bell's Weekly Messenger, — which are 
as many as we thought our funds would allow of at present. 
If you think we ought to have one more, you may direct 
it to be sent out to us. To collect valuable maps and charts 
is one of the prime objects of the institution, and ought to be 
immediately attended to. You will therefore appropriate a 
part of the money sent you with this (say, perhaps, one hun- 
dred dollars) to the purchasing of two or three good At- 
lases of standard reputation. 

" After having furnished the room with newspapers, maga- 
zines, maps and charts, &c, &c, as above mentioned, 
the second object of the Trustees will be to supply the 
library with the most valuable encyclopedias of the arts 
and sciences in the French and English languages, with 
standard dictionaries of the learned and modern languages, 
also dictionaries, critical, biographical, &c, and books of 
general reference useful to the merchant and scholar. We 
have already procured the American edition of R'ees's En- 
cyclopedia, as far as it has been published. We have also 
had presented to us a superb edition of Di\ Aikin's John- 
son's Dictionary, in four large octavo volumes, by my friend, 
Joseph Tilden. Books printed on the Continent we can 
probably purchase cheaper by sending to Paris and Hol- 
land than you could be able to procure them in London. 
I should not therefore advise you to purchase books of 
this kind ; but of this you will be a much better judge than 
34 



39S LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 

myself. I merely mention it by way of suggestion, leaving 
it entirely to your discretion. Some of the money, I should 
think, ought to be appropriated to purchase standard works 
upon commerce and books of useful reference to the mer- 
chants, as most of our subscribers are of this class. Mr. 
Samuel Williams could recommend to you some books of 
this kind. There is a work on this subject reviewed in the 
sixteenth number of the Edinburgh Review, entitled, I be- 
lieve, Macphersoivs Annals of Commerce, which I should 
think we ought to have. You ought to send us out also some 
miscellaneous books, useful to the loungers, — such, perhaps, 
as a complete edition of the English classics, such as the 
Spectator, Guardian, <k:c, with Drake's Essays on these 
periodical writers, &c, &c. The books you purchase must 
be all good editions, printed on good paper, and well bound ; 
but take care not to be too extravagant. I have thus, my 
dear Buckminster, detailed to you the objects to which we 
conceive the income of our institution ought for the present 
to be appropriated, and, with this information, send the five 
hundred dollars to you, to procure such books, for the insti- 
tution as your judgment shall dictate, with an entire confi- 
dence that the money will be appropriated in such a man- 
ner as will advance the interests and extend the patronage 
of the establishment, which I am very sensible you have 
much at heart. All the newspapers and literary publica- 
tions, which we procure through the kindness of Mr. Skin- 
ner, we expect to pay for here, and have made our arrange- 
ments accordingly. 

" You must be very sensible, that the success of an in- 
stitution like ours will depend very much on the punctuality 
and despatch with which we receive our foreign newspapers, 
pamphlets, new books, and periodical publications. I can- 
not urge upon you, therefore, too strongly, the necessity of 
adopting such measures, before you embark for this coun- 
try, as will best secure to us these great objects. I wouM 



LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 399 

beg leave to suggest to you the expediency of selecting 
a confidential bookseller in London ; promise that we will 
purchase all our books of him ; let him supply us with all 
our newspapers, magazines, &c.^ — in short, everything we 
shall want from England ; tell him that our institution prom- 
ises to be a permanent one, — that we shall probably send to 
England from one thousand to fifteen hundred dollars per 
year, to be expended in books. With such inducements, I 
should think, some one might be persuaded to make con- 
siderable exertion to comply with our requisitions. If you 
should adopt any plan of this kind, you must give informa- 
tion to Skinner's house, in London. 

" I send you one hundred dollars, on my own account, 
with which I wish you to procure for me the best edition 
of Shakspeare's plays, with all the prefaces, notes, com- 
mentaries, &c, which I suppose to be Reid's ; Dr. Aikin's 
edition of Dr. Johnson's Dictionary, in four volumes, octavo, 
both to be well bound in calf; Dibdin's bibliographical works ; 
and, if these should not amount to one hundred dollars, any 
other books you may please to procure for me. Alas ! I 
have no more time to write at present. Remember me 
most affectionately to Mr. Thacher. Consult him about the 
reading-room. Love me always, and believe me to be most 
sincerely yours, most affectionately, 

" Wm. S. Shaw." 

" Boston, 13th December, 1806. 
" Dear Buckminster, — I wrote to you by the Galen a 
long letter, and inclosed you a bill of exchange, drawn upon 
Samuel Williams, Esquire, for six hundred dollars, which 
letter I presume you have received. It ought to be a consid- 
erable object, I should think, in the purchase of books for 
our library, to procure such valuable works as are least com- 
mon in this town, and most difficult to be procured in this 
country. The publications relative to the literary fund in 
England I have never seen in this country, and, if they 



400 



LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 



have any merit, I think you had best procure them. 
Horsley on Virgil's Seasons of Honey — I forget the title of 
the work — would be a novelty here. I want you also to 
procure, either for the reading-room or for me, ' A View 
of the Causes and Consequences of the American Revolu- 
tion, in thirteen Discourses, preached in North America, be- 
tween the years 1763 and 1775, by Jonathan Boucher, 
Vicar of Epsom, in the County of Surrey.' Rare books rela- 
tive to the history of this country or the West India islands, 
&c, &c, ought to be obtained. The publications of liter- 
ary associations of eminence in Great Britain we ought to 
procure. Perhaps such letters might be addressed to the 
societies as would induce them to present copies of their 
publications to our institution ; but of this you are the better 
judge. I send you inclosed, with this, ten copies of our 
prospectus, that you may distribute them in a manner most 
likely to promote the great objects of our institution. In 
my last, I suggested to you the expediency of selecting 
some bookseller in London who would undertake to supply 
us with everything we* wanted, and who would be responsi- 
ble for the punctual and early transmission of all our news- 
papers and literary publications. This is a very great, ob- 
ject, and the prosperity and advancement of the institution 
depends very much on the success of our exertions in this 
particular. I would further suggest, whether it would not 
be possible to make some arrangements with the Athenae- 
um and Lyceum of Liverpool, that would operate benefi- 
cially to our establishment. The librarian of those institu- 
tions might possibly be induced to send us some of the nu- 
merous publications which they receive. I have frequently 
seen, in this town, at our printing offices, English newspa- 
pers, with the name of Athenseum stamped upon them, and 
which, I have understood, came from mat institution. These 
institutions must receive a number of newspapers, maga- 
zines, &c.,&c, and often duplicates which they do not care 



LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 401 

to preserve, and would be willing to send them to us at a 
very low price ; also, political pamphlets. 

" I think you might also advance the interests of our es- 
tablishment by conversing with the Americans, particularly 
the Bostonians, in England, on the utility and the pleasure 
which will probably be afforded by an institution on our 
plan. In my exertions here, I have generally succeeded 
beyond my most sanguine expectations, in obtaining sub- 
scriptions, and donations in books as well as money. The 
plan is a very popular one, and almost every one is desirous 
of doing something to promote its objects. If you choose 
to exercise the influence which I know you must possess 
over your American acquaintance in England, and I think 
it is your duty to do it, I have no doubt but that you might 
obtain some very valuable donations to the library. I 
should advise you to give one of our pamphlets to every 
generous American, with some observations which may in- 
duce them to make some exertion to promote the interests 
of the establishment. There are many Englishmen, such 
as Sir John Sinclair, &c, who are pleased to take a very 
lively interest in everything relative to American affairs, 
and who, I have no doubt, would be very much delighted in 
promoting the objects of our establishment. These gen- 
tlemen might be very useful in influencing the learned so- 
cieties to make donations of their publications. I should 
also think it very proper to establish a correspondence with 
some learned men in England, to whom we might be per- 
mitted to write in behalf of the institution, and who might 
be the means of our procuring rare, valuable works, out of 
print, which we could not otherwise obtain. Mr. Benjamin 
Vaughan, here, has recommended us to his brother Wil- 
liam, and has promised to give us letters to him. In my 
former letter, I requested you to procure some books of 
reputation for the merchants. In addition, I would suggest 
to you the propriety of purchasing Oddy's European Com- 
34* 



40'2 LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 

merce, reviewed in the Monthly Review for August last. I 
send you, with this, a second bill of exchange, drawn upon 
Samuel Williams, Esq., for six hundred dollars ; five hundred 
to be laid out in books for the reading-room, as I wrote in 
my former letter, and one hundred on my own account, — 
to procure the best edition of Shakspeare, which I suppose 
to be Reid's, Johnson's Dictionary by Dr. Aikin, Dihdin's 
bibliographical works, to which I would add the Biblio- 
graphical Dictionary, similar to the one which Mr. Emerson 
had. If these books should amount to a greater sum than 
one hundred dollars, which I presume they will, I can only 
promise to pay the bill whenever it shall be presented. If 
you lay out the whole six hundred dollars at one bookstore, 
you will, of course, procure the books much cheaper. 

" The gentlemen of the Anthology Society desire to be 
particularly remembered to you and our friend Thacher. 
We now meet in Congress Street, under the same roof with 
the reading-room, and Cooper, who is to keep the library, 
provides for us. Our subscribers gradually increase, and 
the publication seems to be rising in reputation. The book- 
sellers and printers begin to think us of some consequence, 
and send us most of their publications. We frequently drink 
a bumper to the health of our good friends in Europe, and, 
with much sincerity, wish them pleasure and improvement 
from their travels. We often regret that we have not been 
favored with some communications for the Anthology, but 
anticipate with pleasure the time when they will come en 
masse. Mr. Thacher must not fail to fulfil his promise, and 
we expect a whole budget in the spring. Phillips, in London, 
has sent us an answer to the letter which we wrote to him 
last spring, thanking us for the numbers of the Anthology 
which we sent him, speaking in a very flattering manner 
of the publication, and saying that he should be very happy 
to interchange with us ; but he has as yet sent us none of his 
numbers. If it is not too much trouble, I wish either you 



LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 403 

or Thacher would call upon him, and converse with him on 
the subject. I should think it would be worth while to make 
the same attempt of an interchange with other periodical 
publications in London. I also wish that one of you would 
cause the plan of our institution to be published in the 
Monthly Magazine, and perhaps some other publication, 
with such observations as you may think proper. Pro- 
fessors McKean and Willard are on nomination for mem- 
bers of our society. You have already heard of Dr. Kirk- 
land being a member, and we find him very pleasant as 
a sociable man. We have now completed our third vol- 
ume, and we flatter ourselves that the last is very much the 
best. We commence the new year with a firm determina- 
tion to persevere, and we flatter ourselves, that, with our 
own exertions, and with such foreign aid as we may pro- 
cure, we shall be able to make the publication still more 
valuable. 

u I promised my curious friend, Harris, whom I once in- 
troduced to you, that I would make some inquiries of you in 
his behalf. In the second volume of the American Biogra- 
phy, Dr. Belknap mentions arrows headed with brass be- 
ing shot at a party of Englishmen, by the Indians of Mas- 
sachusetts, and that they were sent to England as curiosi- 
ties. Now he wishes, that, if you meet with any such, 
you will critically examine them. He can account for the 
Indians having copper, by supposing that they found it in its 
natural state, but brass is an artificial metal. It would favor 
his theory, if these arrows' heads should prove to be square, 
brass coins, such as were found at Medford." 

" Boston, 31st December, 1806. 
" My dear Buckminster, — Not knowing how early the 
Galen might go this morning, I put my letter into the letter- 
bag last evening, and, as the ship does not sail till this after- 
noon, I have an opportunity of which, I assure you, I readi- 



404 LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 

ly avail myself, of writing you again. I also send you, in a 
package, directed to Mr. Samuel Williams, twenty copies of 
the regulations of our library, on which I have written ' Not 
to be delivered till the ship arrives in London.' As the 
rooms are not to be opened until the 1st of January, 1807, 
the printers delayed striking them off, so that I did not get 
them till late last evening, and was obliged to send them 
immediately on board the ship. On looking over them, I 
find there are several typographical errors, particularly in 
the list of French journals and the last page, which I wish 
you to correct. In my list of periodical publications, sent to 
Skinner-'s house, in London, I wrote for the Naval Chroni- 
cle and Ciirtis's Botanical Magazine, to be sent out from 
some number in this year ; but we wish for these works 
from their commencement, the volumes to be bound. In 
the same parcel you will find Sherman's account of the 
proceedings of the council, which, thinking it might afford 
you some amusement, I persuaded Dr. Kirkland to give me, 
to send to you. 

" In the literary way, I have not much to tell you. Brad- 
ford has printed four parts of Rees's Cyclopedia, which, in 
typographical execution, is certainly not inferior, in any re- 
spect, to the English edition. The plates, too, are incom- 
parably well executed. 

" The memoirs of Dr. Priestley you have probably read 
in London, but the literary world receive no great accession 
to their stock of knowledge from this source. I was most 
wretchedly disappointed in perusing these volumes. West 
& Greenleaf are publishing in this town a very good 
edition of Burke's works, in four volumes, which they sell 
for eight dollars. The first volume is out of press, and is 
a fine specimen of American typography. Jos. Dennie's 
Portfolio has been supported with less talent this year than 
any former years, and the Miscellany died a natural death 
last Commencement." 



LETTEKS TO WILLIAM S. SHAW. 405 

" London, March 10th, 1807. 
" My dear Shaw, — I have laid out all your draft in 
books, which I hope will be useful, though they were nec- 
essarily selected with so much precipitation, that I fear they 
will not all be approved. The works on commerce I send 
because they are the best, and because you mentioned some 
of them. Chalmers's British Essayists, because particularly 
mentioned in your letter ; the same with Virgil's Seasons 
of Honey. In the article dictionaries, I was unwilling 
to give ten or twelve guineas for Facciolati's, when you 
may get it for seventy-five guilders in Holland ; or five 
guineas for an Elzivir Scapula, when I think it may be 
found in Boston for much less ; or fourteen guineas for 
Stephens's Greek Thesaurus, when I know it can be pro- 
cured for much less in Paris. Kennicott's Bible, and Ca- 
lupo's Concordance, I bought because they were cheap. If 
they are not wanted, sell them to Bowdoin College. A 
copy of Walton's Polyglott, with CastelPs Lexicon, can 
hardly be procured here at any price. Of the new books 
which appeared last year, I send two or three of the most 
valuable ; but I know not what you have already, and there- 
fore I buy new books with caution. The only book I regret 
having bought is Thuanus, for I know it will not be valued 
or read. You ought to have a set of the British Poets. I 
shall bring out some one edition, which you can take or 
not, as you please. Those maps, which I send, you can use 
till my return. In the mean while, you will determine 
whether you will order a set on spring rollers. The four 
quarters of the world, East Indies, Pacific, and South 
America, will cost you between fifty and sixty guineas. 
Curtis's is too expensive to make part of the present invoice. 
I am extremely sorry that the books could not be got 
ready for the new Galen. It is the delay of the binder 
which has prevented. I shall certainly put them on board 



406 LETTERS TO WILLIAM S. SHAW. 

the old Galen, or Samuel Wells's vessel, which will sail in a 
fortnight. Among the books which I have bought for my- 
self, there are several which have that character of rarity, 
as well as excellence, which you seem to demand, and 
which, upon my return, the Athenaeum may take at the 
price which they cost me. 

" There still remain in P.'s hands, towards your next 
draft, — but I believe I shall send them out immediately, 
upon credit, — Hoffman's Lexicon Universale (either this 
or Pitiscus is indispensable to a classical student ; judice, 
Dr. Parr) ; Curtis's Bot. Mag., from the commencement ; a 
set of British Poets (Anderson's cheapest and most com- 
plete, Johnson's most convenient but scarce, Sharp's very 
elegant and dear ; — tell me which you prefer for the read- 
ing-room) ; Alberti's Italian Dictionary ; and several new 
publications. 

" Tell my theological friends that the second volume of 
Griesbach has appeared, and I have taken care that the 
Duke of Grafton be reminded that he had the goodness to 
present a large paper copy of the first volume to the Uni- 
versity at Cambridge. I hope they will receive the second 
in the course of the summer. 

" It has occurred to me that there are now one or two op- 
portunities in Boston of adding to your institution two or 
three extremely valuable works, from the libraries of per- 
sons deceased. Would to God they were alive ! But, His 
will be done ! This circumstance has prevented me from 
purchasing Wetstein, Winklemann, the Monthly Review 
complete, etc. 

" Here follows a list of standard works, for which I think 
you may send to Holland with more advantage than to 
any other place, except Hamburg. [Omitted.] 

" I shall have a notice of your institution inserted in the 
Athenseum, here, but it will not excite any interest, reading- 



LETTERS TO WILLIAM S. SHAW. 407 

rooms and public libraries being so common in every part 
of England and Ireland. Yours, affectionately, 

" J. S. B." 

" London, April 3d, 1807. 

"My dear Shaw, — At length 1 have finished the pur- 
chase of books for the reading-room, and have exceeded, by 
nearly thirty pounds, my commission and your bill of ex- 
change. If you disapprove of any of the purchases, as, 
upon second thoughts, I have, in two or three instances, you 
are welcome to return them to me when I reach America. 
My theological friends may blame me for omitting Kenni- 
cott, but they would blame me still more if they knew the 
reason, which is, that nobody would consult the volumes, 
except those who ought to possess and use them daily. 
I have sent no general Atlas, because there is none worth 
sending, and because Pinkerton has announced the publica- 
tion of a grand one, which is to supersede all others. I 
have procured Priestley (bookseller) to subscribe early in 
behalf of the Athenaeum, Boston. If you still wish one 
immediately, you may take one which Faden has selected 
for me here, and for which I gave him nine guineas. You 
may take it at what it shall cost me. 

" Of this invoice, several books were purchased merely 
in conformity to your instructions, and these, unluckily, swell 
the bill much, — e. g. Naval Chronicle and Curtis's Botanical 
Magazine, from the beginning, and four or five expensive 
works on commerce. About a dozen works I have sent out 
because they were new, and it should be an important ob- 
ject in your establishment to have all the new publications. 
Those that are worth keeping you can keep, and the others 
you may sell at the end of a year or two. I began to make 
out a list of late works for you, but was soon obliged to 
stop, from the difficulty of selection. Upon the whole, I 
believe you must allow me to give a general order for all 



408 LETTERS TO WILLIAM S. SHAW. 

now works. As to those I have sent, I cannot say they 
are all of superior merit ; but I suspect the least valuable 
will be the most popular. I am not sure that Blair's Chro- 
nology is better than Play fair's. One or the other, I think, 
you ought to have. D'Anville's maps are excellent, it is 
well known ; but I believe that Laurie & Whittier's edition 
is poorly engraved, but it is the only one I could find. At 
any rate, D'Anville's is to be preferred, I think, to Wilken- 
son's. Of Miller's Gardener's Dictionary, Chalmers's Brit- 
ish Essayists, and Pinkerton's new editions, there will be, 

I think, but one opinion as to their value 

" As to Eber's German Dictionary, it is the best, and if 
the reading-room does not want it, I do. Gregory's Cyclo- 
pedia is a very salable book, if you choose to part with it. 
Pitiscus is indispensable to a classical student ; so is Hoff- 
man's Lexicon. This latter I have bdught for myself, and 
I advise you to send for it in your next order. Maton, 
Drummond, Mackenzie, Foster, Knight, Pitts, Lives of Gray, 
Kaimes, etc., are among the new books. But I repeat, 
again, that I cannot undertake to make a selection from 
them. How far back must I go? You must have all the 
new publications, as they come out, if they have any kind of 
merit. The edition of Scapula, which I send, though not 
an Elzivir, is equally complete. The Elzivir cannot be 
bought in good order under six or seven guineas. Walker's 
Pronouncing Dictionary is of last year. The Lactantius, 
though a most curious and standard work, the Historical 
Society will be glad to have, if you are not. Newman's 
Spanish Dictionary I know nothing about, except that it is 
the last. The merit of Alberti is well known. 

" You do not know how difficult it is to procure many 
books for one hundred pounds. I have run the Society in 
debt thirty pounds, which, if you please, you will provide 
for in your next draft. 

" You will find that I have ventured to add to your list 



LETTERS TO WILLIAM S. SHAW. 409 

of periodical works. Whether some ought to be struck 
off or not you will judge. There are a great many books, 
too, which you ought to have among the first, which I have 
not purchased here, because they can be procured so much 
cheaper on the Continent. Among them I must mention 
Facciolatus and Gesner ; Stephens's Greek Thesaurus, with 
Scott's Appendix ; a complete set of classics and of classical 
helps, such as the immense collections of Grosvius and 
Gronovius ; complete sets of the Acta Eruditorum, Jour- 
nal des Sgavans, Bibliotheque Raisonnee, the Bible of Le 
Clerc, the Memoirs of the Berlin and St. Petersburg Acad- 
emies, Commentaries of the Society of Leipsic, Abridg- 
ment of the Philosophical Transactions, etc. 

" I would suggest the practicability of procuring the com- 
plete set of the Monthly Review, which belonged to my 
good friend Deacon Storer ; also the Annual Register. I 
hope you have the list I have sent you for Paris, and that 
you will transmit it as soon as possible. I repeat again, 
I should not have sent out exactly such a list, had I not 
known that future orders for London, Amsterdam, Paris, 
and I hope, too, Hamburg and Leghorn, would probably 
supply many apparent deficiencies. 

" I am in great doubt about the propriety of applying 
to any societies here for an exchange of publications ; for 
alas ! what have we to exchange ? The Bath, Manchester, 
Dublin, etc., Society papers are extremely valuable; but 
I think our funds are not yet sufficient to ^procure them. 
We must, at least for some time, think of popularity, and 
I know of no method so likely to procure it, as to keep 
our rooms furnished with abundance of magazines, pam- 
phlets, and new books. This, I am satisfied, should be 
our first object ; and our second, to lay slowly and diligently 
the foundation of a permanent library of works difficult to 
be procured in America. £ 100 a year, judiciously expend- 
ed for this last object, would do much. If I should ever 
35 



410 LETTERS TO WILLIAM S. SHAW. 

return, which God grant may be this summer, I think I 
shall be able to open a correspondence with Paris, which 
will supply us with books now unknown in America. 

" The books are shipped on board the Amelia, because 
Mr. Welles takes them for nothing, and because they could 
not be got ready for the Galen. Mr. Williams has got 
them insured. 

" Your affectionate 

"J. S. B." 

" London, June 6th, 1807. 

" My dear Shaw 7 , — I had determined not to write you 
another letter from England ; but I have just seen, in a Bos- 
ton paper, that the Amelia has arrived with the precious 
deposit for the reading-room, and I cannot fail to offer you 
my congratulations. I suggested to you the propriety of 
ordering, among your new books for the Athenaeum, Ros- 
coe's Lorenzo de Medici, and Leo the Tenth ; Duppa's Life 
of Michel Angelo ; Shepherd's Poggio ; and one other 
of the same period, which I do not now recollect, uniformly 
bound. I wish it were in your power to order some of the 
superb topographical works upon Greece and Rome, such 
as Stuart's Antiquities of Athens, GelPs Topography of 
Troy, Lumisden, Caylus, etc., to say nothing of Grcevius 
and Gronovius. 

" Among the valuable works of the last year, I cannot 
omit to mention Stuart's Translation of Sallust, 2 vols. 8vo., 
extremely interesting to a lover of Roman Literature ; Lord 
Holland's Life of Lope de Vega ; Duten's Memoirs ; Clark- 
son's Portraiture of Quakerism ; and many others, which I 
desired to send out, if your request not to run you in debt 
had not deterred me. 

" I cannot forbear, too, offering you my advice about 
your proposed edifice. Do not build any, unless you -can 
raise money enough to erect an elegant classical building, 



CORRESPONDENCE OF SHAW AND BUCKMINSTER. 411 

either entirely of stone, or with a stone facade, which shall 
reflect everlasting credit upon the taste and munificence 
of the founders. If you cannot do this, any common house 
will answer your purpose. The more rooms the better, if 
securely warmed in winter. At any rate, before you build, 
I hope you will obtain, from England and the Continent, 
drawings, and plans, and views of structures of the kind 
proposed. Loammi Baldwin, who, I understand, has just 
arrived, would send you from Paris, if not from London, 
plans worthy of your attention. I shall venture to speak 
to him upon the subject." 

Certainly Mr. Shaw placed unbounded confidence in 
his friend, and his commissions were executed with as 
much care as a residence of only four months in Lon- 
don, to one who was absent on account of precarious 
health, could well afford. A part of this time also was 
taken up in an excursion to Scotland and Wales. It 
would excite a smile, if it did not almost provoke anger, 
to find, that, in addition to work imposed upon him that 
would have occupied a paid agent for months, Mr. Shaw 
gravely asks him " to write a series of letters for the 
Anthology, upon the literature of England, their col- 
leges, their schools, their literary institutions and liter- 
ary men, which I am very sure," he says, " would be 
novel and interesting and useful to the people of this 
country." A young man, with a few months to devote 
to the recovery of his health, was, beside all the rest of 
his work, to write a book like La Harpe's, which was 
the employment of the best years of life ! 

"Boston, May 13th, 1807. 
u I do most sincerely congratulate you, my dear Buck- 
minster, on the flattering prospect you have of the restora- 



-Jl'-2 LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 

tion of your health. This is the only consideration which 
in any degree reconciles me to your longer absence, for I 
do wish most ardently for your return. Since the death 
of our dear friend Walter, I have regretted your absence, 
and wished for your company, more than ever. O, my 
dear friend, how little did we anticipate this most grievous 
dispensation of God's holy providence when last we parted ! 
A thousand little incidents, relative to his sickness and 
death, forcibly impress themselves upon my mind ; and 
if God shall be pleased to permit us to meet again, I will 
detail them to you with melancholy pleasure. I need not 
tell you, who were so w T ell acquainted with us both, how 
much I loved him, nor how worthy he was of admiration 
and esteem. There was no good that I ever enjoyed, 
there w-as no pleasure that I ever anticipated, with which 
Walter w T as not most intimately associated; but my dear 
friend is dead ! I ought not to complain ; God's will be done ! 
How many delightful hours have we passed together in 
conversing about you, my good friend, — in recollecting 
the pleasures of former days passed in social converse, — in 
felicitating you on the advantages we flattered ourselves 
you would enjoy from your travels, in your health and in 
intellectual improvement, — and with what transport did we 
anticipate your return ! 0, my God ! Of such pleasures 
departed, never to return, how painful the remembrance ! 

" From the pamphlets, which I send to you with this, of 
which you have several for distribution as you think proper, 
you will see that the Trustees of the Anthology reading- 
room and library have obtained an act of incorporation by 
the name of the Proprietors of the Boston Athenaeum. I 
doubt very much whether there ever has been an institution 
in this country, which has made such rapid advances as 
ours ; and I can now congratulate you on the prospect of 
having a library in this town, which you always seemed to 
believe was only a delusion of my idle brain, on a liberal 



LETTERS OF WILLIAM S. SHAW. 413 

plan, highly honorable to the munificence of our citizens, 
and which will assist and facilitate the researches of the 
learned and gratify the ingenious curiosity of strangers. 
This, with me, I can assure you, is no ordinary subject for 
congratulation. Depend upon it, that the establishment of 
the Athenaeum, the rooms of which are to be always acces- 
sible at all hours of the day, is one of the greatest strides 
towards intellectual advancement that this country has ever 
witnessed. We have every reason to believe that the hun- 
dred and fifty shares will be taken up, which, at three hun- 
dred dollars a share, will give us forty-five thousand dollars. 
We already have fifty shares subscribed for, and there are 
about thirty gentlemen beside, who have promised to sub- 
scribe. We shall not trouble ourselves for life-subscribers 
till the permanent shares are taken up, which I undertake 
to say will be the case in the course of three weeks at least, 
and perhaps in a less time. 

" You did very right to send us out the Oxford Review, 
though I do not think much of the numbers I have read. 
As our funds are very much increased, we can now afford 
to take all the English literary magazines of any eminence, 
and you are at liberty to add any to the list you please. 
What merit has the Panorama, anew publication I see 
advertised ? We are perfectly satisfied with the arrange- 
ments made in London with Jenner, for the periodical pub- 
lications. They come out as regularly as we could ex- 
pect to receive them from London ; but we wish that there 
might be some arrangement in Liverpool, so that no vessel 
should sail for Boston without some papers for us. Could 
you not make some agreement with the Athenaeum, Ly- 
ceum, or Union Society, to send out some papers different 
from those we already have at half-price ? You must not 
send us out any books on credit. Remember me with all 
possible affection to dear Thacher. In great haste, dear 
Buckminster, yours, W. S. S." 

35* 



CHAPTER XIX. 

CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN DR. BUCKMINSTER AND HIS 
DAUGHTER. REMARKS UPON THE CORRESPONDENCE. 

Dr. Buckminster's marriage, for the third time, 
took place, after a ' widowhood of five years, in the 1 
summer of 1810. His wife was the widow of Col. 
Eliphalet Ladd, who had been one of his best and most 
valuable parishioners ; and a long and intimate acquaint- 
ance had guarantied to both families the happiness that 
would be secured to their parents from a nearer union. 
Her genuine kindness, the devoted and patient love, 
which rendered the last years of Dr. Buckminster free 
from care, and soothed the irritation of a mind begin- 
ning to feel the approach of declining years and of 
mental depression, secured to her the most affection- 
ate gratitude of his children. 

The father's comfort being thus happily provided for, 
his daughters were no longer detained by filial scruples 
from the pleasant sojourn of their brother's house. Dr. 
Buckminster's anxiety for their eternal welfare increased 
as they were more separated from him. It would be 
unjust to his memory to exclude from these pages the 
following correspondence, which took place at this time. 
But although the letteis appear without the alteration 
of a single word, in the apprehension of the writer, 
the Calvinistic formula and mode of expression, which 



FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 415 

give to them a sectarian aspect, is wholly distinct from 
the spirit that breathes through them. Dr. Buckmin- 
ster's religion was of the heart, not of the head ; it was 
neither that of Calvin, nor of the Assembly's Catechism ; 
it was the pure spirit of the Gospel of Christ that 
breathed in that form of faith which bound him to a sys- 
tem. It was not the form nor the name which fed his 
spiritual nature and kept alive the " life of God in his 
soul." He would have been happier could he have held 
more intimate communion with his children, — could he 
have recognized in his son, and in the daughter to whom 
these letters are addressed, the same spirit which breathed 
in his own soul, — could he have seen that love, joy, 
peace, gentleness, and goodness were as much the fruits 
of the spirit of grace in them as " repentance, faith and 
holiness" are in those denominated "Orthodox Chris- 
tians." If they have met in the great company of puri- 
fied spirits assembled from among those who have worn 
the livery of every sect, and been claimed by every de- 
nomination beneath the sun, the only bond of union will 
be, that they have lived the divine life, the life of God 
in the soul. 

After the marriage of her father, his eldest daughter 
made her brother's house her permanent home, and the 
other sisters were occasionally there. Their separation 
was short, but they never met on earth again ; and the 
words which closed the correspondence, — u O, my 
child, let us be prepared to live with Christ in the world 
to come ! " — as they had a prophetic meaning, so we 
may trust they had a perfect and blissful fulfilment. 

The correspondence begins by a letter from his 
eldest daughter to a sister. 



416 dr. buckmtrstbr's correspondence 

" Boston, September, 1810. 

" I have just been looking at the moon from the roof of 
the house where you, my dear E., passed many hours last 
summer, but never one where nature was more tranquilly 
sublime than now. Everything seems to say that we are 
the work of a perfect Being, and the care of a mild and 
compassionate Father; and we can almost believe that he is 
looking even upon us with approbation and love. How 
great are our obligations to this God ! and how far do I fall 
short of performing the duties aright that these oblig 
imply ! Our best endeavours to serve him are but poor re- 
turns for the mercies he bestows upon us ; and yet I, who 
have received blessings without number, neglect some of 
his most plain and reasonable commands ! When I sat 
down to my desk, I did not think of falling into this train 
of thought; but why may I not write to you, dear E., upon 
a subject, which, from a consciousness of my deficiency in 
knowledge, I dare not converse upon, although it often em- 
ploys my thought r I am sure you believe, with me, that it 
is a duty in even* one arrived at years of discretion, and 
desirous of the name of Christian, to profess publicly her 
belief in Christianity, and show to the world that she loves 
and reveres the character of the blessed Saviour by par- 
taking of the holy ordinance. 

" I am far from believing that there are not many good 
persons, who, from doubt of their qualifications, mistrust of 
their sincerity, or perhaps from a habit of procrastination, 
live and die without becoming members of the Church in 
this world, who will yet enjoy all the happiness of heaven ; 
still, I think it is a duty every Christian should perform, and 
that the neglect of it causes a severe compunction and pain 
of conscience. I have been wishing to talk with papa on 
the subject, but I cannot get confidence, and I believe that 
I have sometimes refrained through fear, that, instead of 
an honor I should be a reproach to the cause of Christ : 



WITH HIS DAUGHTER. 417 

for, in every situation, we should ' keep a conscience void 
of offence to God and man ' ; and those who publicly pro- 
fess to be Christ's disciples do more injury to the cause of 
Christianity by small errors than mere men of the world 
do by great sins. Are we not promised the assistance of 
God's spirit to help us in all our sincere endeavours to serve 
him ? and, if we firmly believe this, are we not wrong in 
neglecting any means which will enable us to become more 
worthy disciples of Jesus, and more perfect in our lives ? 

" The precepts of the Gospel do not prohibit rational 
and moderate pleasures ; indeed, the purest pleasures are 
there recommended and enforced ; our endeavour should 
be to form the mind, and keep it in a state for their en- 
joyment. There we are taught that such a disposition is 
necessary ; that, while we live in the world, we should be 
able to live above it. We must often associate in the world 
with those whose chief happiness is in the show and pageant- 
ry of the world ; but it does not follow, because we are 
charitable to such, l that we are lovers of pleasure more 
than lovers of God.' The difference of opinion that pre- 
vails upon" the most momentous subjects, at the present time, 
makes one almost afraid to adopt any belief; for what we 
will assert is truth, another will reason into falsehood. I 
cannot but believe, that, if any particular faith had been re- 
quired for the attainment of heaven, it would have been 
distinctly revealed to us ; and when we see so many good 
men differing in faith and sentiment, who are making equal 
exertions for the glory of God and the improvement of 
man, we cannot but believe that they will partake of equal 
joys in another world. 

" Most affectionately, your 

"L. M. B." 

After reading this letter, the father wrote in reply : — 



41S dr. buckminster's correspondence 

" October 29th, 1S10. 
" My dear Daughter, — Religion, my dear child, real 
religion, is the principal thing, the thing of first importance, 
the one thing needful, to all ages and characters. It does 
not consist in a speculative belief of a certain set of princi- 
ples, even though they be true ; nor in the external perform- 
ance of a round of duties, though they be the duties which 
reason and revelation impose upon us ; but it consists in a 
reconciliation of the heart to God, in an approbation of his 
character, his government, his truths, his precepts, his in- 
stitutions, and a conformity to them, — performing the ser- 
vices which they impose from a principle of love and re- 
spect to his authority and pleasure. It (i. e. religion) gives 
God, as manifested in Jesus Christ, the preference to all other 
objects, and rebinds the soul to him, as its supreme good. 
Now this is not the natural state of man, — of any man de- 
scended from apostate Adam. We are alienated and es- 
tranged from God through the ignorance that is in us, by 
reason of the blindness of our hearts; we are naturally 
averse from the true character of God as a holy and sove- 
reign God. We may love his blessings, but we love not 
him. We love pleasure more than God, and the creature 
more than the Creator. We love human excellence more 
than the Divine, — talk more about it, dwell more upon it, 
although the former is to the latter but as the drop of the 
bucket to the waves of the ocean. Universal experience 
and Scriptural declaration confirm this truth ; hence the ne- 
cessity of our being born again, — of our being renewed in 
the spirit of our minds, — created anew. This is not some 
trifling alteration in our sentiments, views, feelings, and 
practices, but it is a radical, and essential, and abiding 
change, in which old things pass away and all things be- 
come new : in which God is welcomed to his throne in the 
heart, and everything is brought into obedience to his pleas- 



WITH HIS DAUGHTER. 419 

ure. This is religion, and to effect this is the design of the 
mighty apparatus of the Gospel. Till this is effected, we 
have no part or lot in religion, — no title to its blessings. 
This is the religion I want for my children. But I fear, 
through the pride of science and philosophy, and the fashion- 
able liberality of the present day, my children are placing 
the most formidable barriers against their ever possessing it. 

" This change, that I have spoken of, is effected by re- 
ceiving Christ and believing in him, with a cordial, but hum- 
bling and self-denying faith. In proportion as we cherish 
inadequate ideas of our helpless, guilty, and incurable state 
by nature, nattering ideas of there being some remains of 
good in us, surviving the apostacy, upon which, by our own 
exertions, we may raise ourselves to a moral and spiritual 
change, we shall be indifferent to the Saviour, we shall have 
low thoughts of his character and of his undertaking, and 
compass ourselves about with sparks of our own kindling, 
till we receive this at the hand of the Lord, that we lie down 
in sorrow. I wish that I had not so much reason to fear that 
none of my children are partakers of this grace. I have 
reason to bless God that you are amiable, that you are im- 
proved, that you are affectionate to each other and dutiful to 
me ; but, O that I could hope that you were gracious, that 
you loved Christ in his true character, more than father or 
brother, more than characters distinguished for science and 
philosophy, for politeness and refinement, in a vain world, 
whose pageantry will soon vanish as a dream ! 

"I have been favored and pleased with reading the let- 
ters you wrote to E., with the scenery and descriptions 
of society in England, and the interest you take in it. Are 
you as much interested, my dear daughter, in the scenes 
that were exhibited in Judea, in Mount Calvary, and the 
garden of Gethsemane ? Do they at any time cause such 
emotions to thrill in your breast ? Are you as sensibly in- 
terested in the characters there ? How natural, in writing to 



420 DR. BUCKMINSTER'S CORRESPONDENCE 

a beloved sister, bound with you to eternity, and whose only 
hope must be with yours in this Saviour, how natural would 
it have been to have adverted to it ! You love Miss L. for 
her admiration of Miss S. Do you love those who admire 
Christ in his true character, and because they admire him ? 
O, my child, may God enable you to do so, and to love all 
those who love the Lord Jesus in sincerity. You are antici- 
pating with pleasure a portrait of , and a bust of . 

Have you any such desires to see Jesus, or to gaze upon the 
tokens of his love, the symbols of his body and blood ? A 
fear that you had not, my dearest daughter, — a fear that 
you were a stranger to the power of Divine grace, — was the 
reason I did not encourage your making a profession of re- 
ligion when you spoke to me on the subject ; but perhaps I 
judged wrong. I beseech you not, my dear child, to rest 
in professions, — in saying Lord, Lord! — but be sure 
that Christ is your Lord, and that you are crucified to the 
world and the world to you. Rest in nothing short of re- 
generation, for unless you are born again, you cannot see 
the kingdom of God." 

« November 23d, 1810. 
"My dear Daughter, — The reading of your letter 
brought to my mind the breathing of the Apostle, in the 
fourth chapter of Galatians, nineteenth and twentieth verses. 
However uncharitable it may appear to you, I must say, I 
stand in doubt of my children, and have fears, that, lest, as 
the serpent beguiled Eve through his subtlety, so their 
minds should be corrupted from the simplicity that is in 
Christ. The breathing of the Apostle, in the passage re- 
ferred to above, implies in the strongest terms, that, nat- 
urally, there is nothing of Christ in us ; nothing until it is 
formed within us. This is supported by express Scripture 
testimony. Every imagination of the thoughts of man's 
heart is evil, only evil, and that continually, from his youth. 
4 The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately 



WITH HIS DAUGHTER. 421 

wicked.' ' You hath he quickened,' saith the Apostle to 
the Ephesians, ' who were dead in trespasses and sins ' ; and, 
lest he should be thought to confine this description to the 
heathen, he speaks of the privileged Jews as in the same 
state before their conversion, ' among whom we all had 
our conversation in times past, in the lusts of the flesh, ful- 
filling the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were 
by nature children of wrath, even as others.' The deny- 
ing, doubting, disbelieving this truth, leads to a train of 
errors in theology. Nay, unless the heart be better than 
the head, having been the subject of exercises which the head 
denies, I do not see how it can be a temple for the Holy 
Spirit to dwell in. The corrupting of this doctrine, or be- 
lieving that the apostacy of man has only given a shock 
to his moral and spiritual state, while it has left some prin- 
ciple, some stamina, by which he may raise himself up to 
the favor of God, and, without the foundation of a belief in 
total depravity, become a holy temple to the Lord, recon- 
ciles us to low ideas of Christ and his work, and preserves 
the pride and self-complacency which must be brought 
down before we can become partakers of the blessings of 
the Gospel. 

" A want of conviction of this natural state of man, which 
constitutes the necessity of the wonderful plan of the Gos- 
pel, is the reason why persons do not know what regenera- 
tion means, and why preachers preach so indistinctly upon 
it. Regeneration is the change in the natural state of man, 
the radical alteration of this character, the slaying of the 
enmity of the heart, (for ' the carnal mind is enmity to 
God,') the bowing and renewing of the will. This change 
does not produce any new powers in the heart, but it 
changes the direction of the powers, the will, and the affec- 
tions. It is the beginning of a new life, with new principles, 
new views, and new objects of delight and aversion. With- 
out this change no one can see the kingdom of God. Make 
36 



±22 dr. bucioiinster's correspondence 

the tree good, and the fruit will be good ; but as long as the 
tree is corrupt the fruit will be corrupt. They who are in 
the flesh cannot please God. This cannot mean in the 
body, because of many such it has been known that they 
pleased God. Neither can it mean those who live in great 
sensuality, because emulation, wrath, strife are fruits of the 
flesh, as much as intemperance or sensuality. It means 
those who are in the state of their natural birth, as born of 
the flesh. Man cannot raise himself up, or produce the 
new birth. He may do much, if he will not resist and op- 
pose the plain truths of God, toward making himself sensible 
of his need of this birth ; but, in order to its being effected, 
he must bow and jdeld himself, as a poor, helpless, guilty, 
and justly condemned sinner, to sovereign grace. He 
must receive Christ as he is offered to him in the Gospel. 
Christ is the plank thrown out to sinners in their shipwreck, 
and they must grasp it by faith, and rest upon him, or they 
perish. To them who receive him, to them power is given 
to become the sons of God, even to them who believe in 
his name, who are born not of blood, nor of the will of the 
flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God. We must submit 
to this righteousness of Christ. If we do not, however much 
zeal we may use to establish our own righteousness, we 
shall never attain to the law of holiness, and shall only 
compass ourselves about with sparks of our own kindling. 
The prophet Isaiah has said, such shall receive this at the 
hand of God, ' that they shall lie down in sorrow.' 

" ' If any man be in Christ,' the Apostle says, ' he is a new 
creature ; to be carnally minded is death, but to be spirit- 
ually minded is life and peace.' Christians are God's work- 
manship, created in Christ Jesus to good works, which God 
hath before ordained, that we should walk in them. Till 
we are created in Christ Jesus, then, till we repent and be- 
lieve in him, till we are regenerated, we cannot produce 
those good works, which God has before ordained, wherein 



WITH HIS DAUGHTER. 423 

Christians should walk. If you are at a loss upon the na- 
ture of regeneration, read Dr. Doddridge's sermons on that 
subject. 

" You say, my dear child, that you have no idea of ar- 
riving in this world to any particular stage of goodness, but 
that all must be progress. If you mean a state of perfec- 
tion, which your following remarks indicate, no one that is 
taught of God has any such idea. But we must commence 
a state of goodness ; we must change our master. The evil 
one must be cast out of us, and Christ must take possession 
of our hearts. We -must not only have our hearts swept, 
but washed ; ' without holiness no man shall see the Lord.' 
We shall not then think we have no more to do, but we 
shall think we can never do enough for him that hath loved 
us and washed us in his blood. We shall then work from 
life and love, and not for them. If we should attain that 
assurance which we are commanded to use all diligence to 
attain, so as not to be banished from God, we shall have an 
increased concern not to do anything to grieve and offend 
him, and we shall have more ardent wishes to abound in the 
fruits of righteousness, which are by Jesus Christ, to the 
praise and glory of God. 

" You say, my dear child, that you know that you are 
unworthy to come to the communion ; you would use it as a 
means ; and you ask if deferring it will make your sins less. 
If you have come to Christ, this is all the worthiness that 
any will ever have, — their sole title to this ordinance. 
You are unworthy to come to Christ, but his invitation and 
command removes the obstacle, and gives you a fair title 
to come ; and, however unworthy you are, if you do come, 
you shall be welcome, and all things shall work together for 
your good. Unworthiness never was an obstacle ; it is only 
unwillingness to come to the terms of the Gospel that 
ruins us. 

" Nothing on earth could give me higher happiness than 



421 dr. buckminster's correspondence 

to have ground to believe that Christ was formed in the 
hearts of my children, — that they had truly given themselves 
to the Lord ; then it would be a joy to me to have them 
enroll their names in the church committed to their Father's 
care. But it matters little in what Christian records our 
names are written, if they are written in the Lamb's book 
of life. Some churches have departed from the funda- 
mental doctrines of the Gospel, but their corruptions will 
not destroy the comfort and usefulness of the ordinances, 
to those who with penitent and believing hearts partake of 
them. 

" If your are satisfied, my child, respecting your right 
to the ordinance, that you do indeed receive its Divine 
author as your Lord, that you can take up your cross and 
follow him in sincere and faithful allegiance, you had better 
not delay any longer to join your brother's church ; but let 
a father entreat you not to rest in a name to live, while you 
are dead ; not in a form of godliness without its power ; — 
that power that shall bring every thought into captivity to the 
obedience of faith. Do not content yourself with that phi- 
losophic, speculative religion, which may give God much 
in profession and in ritual observances, but reserves the 
heart for the world, its fashions, and its customs. 

u I should have been too happy in this world had God 
led my children to see Divine truth as I think it ought to 
be discerned, and to hold fast what I conceive to be the 
truth as it is in Jesus. But he has suffered them, in my 
view, through the pride of science and the fascinations of 
philosophy, to be perverted from the truth, and to hold 
dangerous errors ; whether he will ever rescue them I know 
not : some have been recovered from these snares, there- 
fore I have hope. I must leave them with God. I have 
said everything to my dear son that is profitable to be 
said. Nothing will convince him, and turn him from his 
errors, but that still small voice which followed the earth- 



WITH HIS DAUGHTER. 425 

quake and the fire in the vision of Elijah and made the 
prophet wrap his face in his mantle. O that it would please 
God to grant you and him, and all my children, this efficient 
voice, that you might understand me, and I should no longer 
be to you such as you would not. But I must give myself 
to prayer. 

" I am sorry for poor W. He was a faithful servant in 
my family many years ago. Give my love to him, and 
present him the inclosed." 

" December, 1811. 

tl My dear Child, — Since I had the pleasure of seeing 
you in Boston, or of hearing anything directly from you, 
you have voluntarily associated yourself with the family 
and Church of Christ, and given yourself to him as your 
head and husband ; for the Church is his bride, purchased 
at an inestimable price, even the price of his precious blood. 
I hope you have felt yourself altogether unworthy of this 
honor, unworthy even to be placed among his servants, and 
that you have ventured upon this solemn transaction, be- 
cause he has called you, and constrained you to love him, 
and to prefer him to every other, even your chiefest joy. 
0, my daughter, if God has wrought you to this self-same 
tiling, if he has formed you to this temper and affection, 
how happy are you ! How happy am I, to have one of my 
own children, the children of my dearest love, adopted into 
the family of Christ, into whose heart the spirit of adoption 
is poured so that you can with filial confidence cry Abba, 
Father ! 

" But you will permit the anxiety of a father to suggest 
to you that we must not rest upon any external observances, 
nor formal covenantings, however solemnly performed, as 
certain evidence of our gracious state, or of our title through 
grace to the Divine favor. There is no dispute with any 
who claim the title of Christians, that, ' as God is a spirit, 
they who worship him must worship him in spirit and in 
36* 



426 dr. buckminster's correspondence 

truth.' This claim, which we may not disdain nor dispute, 
is, l My son, give me thy heart. 1 Let us give him what we 
may, if this be withheld, if his authority and pleasure be 
disputed, and other objects rival him in our love, we cannot 
belong to him nor he to us. 

" It is our duty to profess religion. ' With the heart man 
believeth unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession 
is made unto salvation,' but there is danger of resting in the 
confession, without a due concern that the faith that influ- 
ences it is seated in the heart, and commands and governs 
it. The Apostle Peter exhorts those whom he addresses 
as brethren, and who, therefore, must be considered as being 
of the visible family of Christ, to give diligence to make 
their calling and election sure, which must mean that call- 
ing which does insure eternal life, for he says, ' so an en- 
trance shall be administered to you abundantly into the ever- 
lasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, who 
is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever.' Let a father 
entreat you, my dear child, to use diligence to add to your 
faith, virtue, that is, a holy, heavenly zeal and courage ; and 
to virtue, knowledge ; and to make your calling and election 
sure. If you ask me what this calling is, I know not that 
I can answer you better than in the words of that formula 
of religious truth and duty, which I regret I did not more 
carefully and diligently teach my children when they were 
young, and which I wish they would impartially study and 
compare with the word of God, now they are older. 
' Effectual calling is a work of God's spirit, whereby con- 
vincing us of our sin and misery, and enlightening our 
minds in the knowledge of Christ, and renewing our wills, 
he doth persuade and enable us to embrace Jesus Christ, 
freely offered to us in the Gospel.' No one, I think, can 
object to this description of the calling of God that is unto 
salvation, who is not willing to be satisfied with a body 
without a soul, or with a shadow without the substance. 



WITH HIS DAUGHTER. 427 

Religion is the informing spirit of the heart, and shows its 
fruits in the life and conversation. It is our victory, over- 
coming jhe world and all that is in the world, as the lusts 
of the flesh, the lusts of the eye, and the pride of life, all 
which are not of religion, but of the world. There are 
indeed babes, young men, and fathers, in Christ ; but the 
babe has a principle of respect to Christ, though it may not 
be as strong and vigorous as in those who have the other 
titles. l The water that I shall give you,' saith he from 
whom all our good gifts must come, ' shall be in you a well 
of water springing up to everlasting life.' I hope that 
Christ rules in your heart and affections, and that, although 
you do not separate yourself from the world and the men 
of the world, yet that they are not the inmates of your 
heart, and your chosen companions, but that your delight 
is in the saints, the excellent of the earth, and that you 
love to retire from the cares and pleasures of the world to 
your Bible and your closet, that you may converse with 
Christ. 

" Although your father is a guilty and miserable sinner, 
who trusts that none of his children has so much offended 
God as he has done, yet he has hope that through grace he 
is a penitent sinner, and has found mercy with God ; and 
although he loathes himself for his iniquities, yet he knows 
from the Scripture that the least sinner must repent, if he 
would escape perdition. There may be different degrees 
or intensity of repentance, but it is of one nature. Your 
father is the channel by which you, my children, have de- 
rived corruption and depravity, and you are by nature chil- 
dren of wrath; would your father not be a monster, if he 
did not strive with you till Christ be formed within you ? 
That he stands in doubt of you, he cannot disguise, and that 
he has more anxiety on this subject than upon any other, he 
cannot conceal. I ascribe righteousness to my Maker ; he 
is holy in all that with which he sees fit to exercise me ; 



428 dr. buckminster's correspondence 

but I often ask, whether he is not punishing the vanity and 
ambition of your father in wishing his children to be distin- 
guished by intellectual attainments, by permitting .them to 
embrace a philosophic religion, and hiding from them the true 
Gospel, and is thus granting my request by sending leanness 
into their souls. If this be so, Father in heaven forgive 
me and them ; and when we are corrected according to thy 
good pleasure, bring my children into the true way to adore 
Emanuel and enthrone him in their hearts ! 

" You live, my dear daughter, in the atmosphere of lib- 
erality of principle ; your friends and visitors are Arians or 
Socinians, who are disposed to object to our common trans- 
lation of the Scriptures, and thus impair their authority and 
influence upon the minds and hearts of those who can 
read no other. We may as well be without the Scriptures 
as not to have confidence in them, that they are a safe rule 
of faith and practice ; or to imagine that the things that are 
necessary to our salvation depend upon verbal criticism, or 
the wrangling of scholars who are striving for literary fame. 
I was astonished lately at the remark of a person on this 
subject, that i she could not use the Scriptures to judge of 
doctrines, unless she could read them in the original ' ; which 
is to render the Scriptures useless to far the greater portion 
of mankind. I hope the Socinian and Arian heresies are 
not inconsistent with the salvation of those who are staggered 
with them, but I cannot but tremble when I read the words of 
the Apostle Peter, 2d Epistle, ii. 4, — c There shall be false , 
teachers among you, who privily shall bring in damnable her- 
esies, even denying the Lord Jesus that bought them, bring- 
ing upon themselves swift destruction.' If those who are 
affected with these sentiments are subjects of spiritual regen- 
eration, and do love God with a supreme love, and hate sin 
in its nature as well as in its consequences, they will be with 
God for ever ; they will never perish. But these errors are 
generally connected with such views of regeneration, re- 



WITH HIS DAUGHTER. 429 

pentance, faith, etc., as do not issue in such a state of mind 
and heart ; and they so diminish the evil of sin, and the im- 
mense sacrifice that it demanded, that I fear they will never 
produce this effect. 

" You yourself must have observed that these sentiments 
abate the zeal ; they cool the ardor and solicitude of those 
that hold them, compared with those who hold contrary sen- 
timents ; they make them more satisfied with the form of 
godliness, where there is little evidence of the power of it ; 
they are rarely interested in subjects that address the heart or 
relate to the safety of the soul, and that grace of God by 
which its safety is insured ; the objects of their pursuit 
and ambition are in some sense or other worldly objects. 
This affords a strong suspicion that they err from the faith ; 
for truth sanctifies the soul, and they who are risen with 
Christ set their affections upon things above. 

" Whether these errors be consistent with a state of grace 
or with the safety of the soul, I know not ; but this I know, 
that God can recover those that have fallen into them, for he 
has given such instances of his sovereign and triumphant 
grace. This is the hope, that, like a distant gleam of light, 
streaks the dark hemisphere that God has spread over me. 
That he will some time recover your brother from the snare 
in which he is entangled, and bring him to devote those pow- 
ers and acquirements which have been given him, to display 
the glory of Christ as God, and the Saviour, and to build 
again what he has aided to destroy, is the prayer of my soul. 
Whether this be ever the case or not, God will be righteous, 
and I must leave it. I hope my children will not be so 
alienated from me as to lose their affection for me, because 
I am so anxious for their safety that I cannot but express a 
jealousy for them. 

" I do not censure you, my daughter, for professing re- 
ligion and joining your brother's church ; but I must charge 
you, that you do not rest in that as evidence of your re- 



430 REMARKS UPON 

ligion ; but see that you be renewed in the spirit of your 
mind, and possess a new nature as well as a new name. 
Let your heart be devoted to God. Covet the society of 
those that love Christ and are sincere in his praise. 

" I have written thus largely to you, my daughter, in the 
fulness of my heart. Can you think it is because I love you 
not ? God knoweth ! We shall probably never be much 
more together in this world. O, my child, let us be pre- 
pared to live with Christ in the world to come ! 

" J. BUCKMINSTER." 

It will be seen, by the preceding letters, that neither 
father nor son had changed his views since the writing of 
the former letters previous to the settlement of the son. 
He, who had always felt too much reverence and child- 
like submission to his father to enter into controversy, or 
even to defend his own views, seems at length, in the 
last letter he ever wrote, to have resolved to take up the 
other side ; or, as he expresses it, to present the oppo- 
site of that which he calls " the revolting forms of Cal- 
vinism." Had not death intervened, we might have 
been able to read in his own words the result of his life- 
long inquiries, — his faithful, thorough, and conscientious 
investigation of the texts and authorities upon which 
Calvinism rests its claims. Death interposed, and, 
within twenty-four hours of time, placed them face to 
face, without a veil between, where they could read the 
sublime and indelible characters of eternal truth. 

Perhaps it may not be arrogant to say, that this father 
and son presented an epitome of that greater controversy 
which afterwards divided the Church and community. It 
may here be seen, divested of all bitterness and wrath, 
and wrung reluctantly from both. Both were equal lov- 
ers of the truth, both sought it with a single purpose, 



THE CORRESPONDENCE. 431 

and to both it was the vital element of thought ; and we 
do them only justice to believe, that, had they lived in 
an earlier age of the Church, both would have sealed 
their confession with their death. 

The father received his education at Yale College at 
the beginning of the war of the Revolution, when, to 
use the words of a son of Yale, " the religious state of 
the college was very low, and it must have been from 
high spirituality of feeling that any young man would, at 
that time, devote himself to the ministry." His own 
religious convictions were, however, at that time strong, 
deep, and lasting. We quote from an author who prob- 
ably received the information from Dr. Buckminster 
himself, that, cc before he left New Haven, he was under 
deep conviction. He almost sank in despair, but ob- 
tained the glorious hope that he had passed from death 
unto life. It was then his purpose, as it was afterwards 
his greatest delight, to consecrate his time, his talents, 
his acquirements to the cause and interest of the Re- 
deemer."* It was at this time, doubtless, that he wrote 
the confession of faith and form of self-dedication to the 
service of God which appears on pages 19-23. This 
is a confession of pure Calvinism. That his views were 
afterwards somewhat modified appears from his not 
adopting the Assembly's Catechism for his eldest chil- 
dren ; and that these views had not the supreme impor- 
tance in his mind at one period, may be inferred from 
the little prominence that is given to them in the prayers 
of the " PiscataquaPrayer-Book." From causes obvious 
to the writer, but which cannot be mentioned here, Dr. 
Buckminster became more anxious, in the last years of 

* Rev. Timothy Alden, of Portsmouth. 



132 RELIGIOUS DIFFERENCES. 

his life, to enforce his own peculiar Calvinistic faith ; and 
it cannot be asserted, that, at any time, there was any 
essential change from that early confession of faith. Af- 
ter his settlement over a parish, he certainly did not 
pursue any critical or Biblical studies, except in the 
common version of the English Bible. The writer does 
not recollect his ever reverting to any other. His par- 
ish was large, and he was extremely devoted to parish 
duties. He could not be called a student, in any sense 
of the word, except so far as writing sermons requires 
study. He wrote a large, a very large, number of ser- 
mons, and probably made some mental preparation for 
his extemporaneous addresses. But his library and study- 
table furnished none of the means, as his constant devo- 
tion to his parish left no leisure, for critical researches or 
learned investigation ; and, in his letters to his daughter, 
he deprecates " the pride of science and the wrangling 
of scholars," and avows the English Bible sufficient for 
all purposes of the knowledge of God. 

The early years of his son were passed under all the 
influences of his father's faith, enforced and strengthened 
by the example of his father's devout and eminently pious 
life ; and we have seen that his own genial nature was not 
susceptible of gloom or superstition, although he was at 
a very early age a thoughtful and deeply reflective youth. 
The religion that he learned from his father was associated 
with all his youthful feelings of devotion, and was prob- 
ably very dear to his young affections. It must have 
been by gradual processes, as his understanding and rea- 
son developed and his inquiries advanced, that Calvinism 
lost its hold upon his affections, as it did upon his intel- 
lect. 

We have seen that he was thoroughly versed in the 



CRITICAL STUDY OF THE SCRIPTURES. 433 

languages in which the Scriptures were written, and one 
of the most distinguished classical scholars that Harvard 
ever sent forth from its honored shades. It must have 
been from the love of truth, that he was led to investi- 
gate conscientiously, as he did, the original meaning of 
the words in which the Bible was written ; to compare 
texts and commentators ; to go back to the very foun- 
tain-head ,' to procure the earliest copies of the Scrip- 
tures, and to spend days, and w T eeks, and months, and 
years in efforts to restore the text to its original purity, 
with all the helps he could derive, not only from Bibli- 
cal scholars, the ancient fathers, and the earliest teach- 
ers of the Church, but by the help also of learned com- 
mentators upon what are called the profane writers. He 
made the Greek language his study till the day of his 
death, in order to give its help to his conscientious in- 
quiries ; and although his principles of interpretation, and 
many of his reasonings, are not those of a large number 
of Biblical critics, his candor, and honesty, and sincerity 
have never been called in question. An extract from his 
journal will show that he made the daily duty of do- 
mestic worship a subsidiary aid to his own studies and 
researches. It is immediately after his settlement : — 
" I have commenced reading Doddridge's Family Ex- 
positor in the morning, before family prayers ; I read 
the text and notes, with the improvement, before the 
domestics are called in to hear the prayer. After break- 
fast, I examine the difficult passages in other commen- 
tators, especially in Whitby, and read the original 
Greek, and Wakefield's or some other translation." 

His library w T as dispersed, by public sale, after his 
death ; but could some of the books that were his daily 
study have been preserved together, it would have been 
37 



434 CRITICAL STUDY OF THE SCRIPTURES. 

seen how faithful and exact was his reading. He read 
with pencil or pen in his hand, and many of his books 
were interleaved for the purpose of making his own re- 
marks or those of others as he read. An interleaved 
Grotius De Veritate is now in the possession of the 
writer, which shows his careful and faithful research. 
It will be seen in the Appendix that he was lavish in 
his expenditure to procure ancient copies of the Scrip- 
tures, and that his little fortune was spent in obtaining 
the books which he felt were requisite to enable him 
to come to a knowledge of the truth. His researches 
sent him back behind synods and councils ; behind King 
James's translation of the Bible ; behind Calvin and 
Luther, Athanasius and St. Augustine, to the simplicity 
of the primitive Church, to the faith of the Apostles 
and the teaching of Christ. That with all these aids, 
and this faithful study, the son's investigations resulted 
in a firm and decided faith in that form of Christianity 
which has since been called I7nitarianism,*and that it 
was painful to both father and son thus to differ, is equal- 
ly honorable to both. Both were lovers of truth, both 
conscientious, and yet they differed toto ccelo in their 
speculative belief. Who shall say that the son was not 
as honest and sincere as the father ? that conscience 
and honor did not enter as fully into his studies as into 
those of his father ? that devotion to God, and love to 
man, were not as much the moving springs in his, as in 
his father's soul ? 

The results to which each had come they both taught 
unreservedly, — the son with as much openness as the 
father, but without giving himself a name ; and perhaps 
it was the wish and hope of those who early departed 
from Calvinism to receive no sectarian name, — to be- 



PRACTICAL RELIGION. 435 

long to that antisectarian sect, " whose religion," ac- 
cording to Dr. Kirkland, " consisted in being religious." 
His preaching met the wants of the multitudes who 
thronged to hear him. Those who had found Calvin- 
ism insufficient for the wants of the soul, and were 
tempted, like the young person to whose letter he refers, 
" to wish, that, if such representations of Christianity- 
were a just picture of what should be a most beneficent 
religion, they would be glad to find it not true," — such 
persons were nourished and made better by his preach- 
ing. 

The truth, in relation to father and son, seemed to 
demand that the above remarks should be made, not 
because, in the humble view of the writer, Calvinism 
or Lutheranism are essential forms of Christianity, but 
in anticipation of that time, when religion will not be 
wholly concerned with speculative doctrines, but with 
the life of truth ; and that life not manifested by the 
mere externals of particular forms or even of charities, 
but by the beauty of holiness, — the exhibition of the 
beauty of the perfect law, the life of God in the soul 
of man. 



CHAPTER XX. 

DEATH OF REV. MR. EMERSON. — APPOINTMENT OF J. S. 
BUCKMINSTER AS LECTURER UPON THE DEXTER FOUNDA- 
TION IN HARVARD COLLEGE. — STUDY OF GERMAN. IN- 
TELLECTUAL CHARACTER AND HABITS. LAST ILLNESS. 

1811. In May of 1811 died the Rev. William 

Aged 27. E mersori5 pastor of the First Church in Bos- 
ton. This church, and that in Brattle Street, had been 
associated together in the interchange of their sacra- 
mental lectures, each pastor preaching in the pulpit 
of the other in the afternoon of the Sabbath of the 
Lord's Supper. This was an endearing interchange 
of ministerial duties, and, to one as susceptible of all 
Christian charities as was the pastor of Brattle Street, 
it was sufficient to bind Mr. Emerson to him in tender 
relations. My brother preached the funeral sermon, and, 
in reverting to the circumstance that the pastors of the 
two churches had alternately officiated at each other's 
obsequies, a prophetic foreboding escaped him, that he 
should next follow his brother. A personal feeling of 
regretful resignation selected the words which he in- 
troduced towards the close of the sermon, — 

" O, 't is well 
With him ! But who knows what the coming hour, 
Veiled in thick darkness, brings for us ? " 



SERMON ON THE DEATH OF REV. MR. EMERSON. 437 

In this sermon he spoke of the value of posthumous 
reputation. 

" Though one of the most common, it is still one of the 
sweetest, rewards of acknowledged and respected virtue, to 
leave the minds of survivors turning involuntarily towards 
the contemplation of that worth which they are no longer 
to enjoy. Then the excellences of the departed take full 
possession of our imaginations ; and we find ourselves en- 
gaged in calling up their merits, which, because we had 
so little fear of losing, we had, perhaps, undervalued, or not 
fully regarded. Then, when we find them no more in the 
places which once knew them, recollection is busy about 
the spots which they frequented, and there start up a thou- 
sand affecting remembrances of their character and man- 
ners. When we are called upon to supply their places, the 
task is found more painful and difficult than we had imag- 
ined ; and we begin to wish that we had valued them more, 
and loved them better, as well as enjoyed them longer. 
The void left by the death of good men time does not fill, 
indeed, but only throws further back into the retrospect. 
We come to their last obsequies with unwonted fondness ; 
our lips are ready to show forth their praise ; our affections 
linger about their graves ; we feel more than ever that we 
are ' strangers and pilgrims on the earth,' and wish more 
than ever to ' die the death of the righteous.' 

" This sentiment of posthumous regard, so tender, and 
yet so strong, is the reward only of genuine worth, and is 
entirely different from those demonstrations of respect which 
are paid to men who have enjoyed the more distinction 
during life the less intimately they were known, and whom 
we consent to bury with honor, to avoid the further ex- 
pression of our real opinion. He whose remains are now 
before us has left many bowed down with unaffected 
37* 



438 SERMON ON THE DEATH OF 

grief, who come prepared and willing now to dwell awhile 
on his character. Affection and faithful memory, therefore, 
will supply whatever may be wanting in the following re- 
marks, which are made with something of that restraint 
which would be felt if the departed were capable of now 
listening to the speaker. For there is something sacred in 
the presence of his remains, to which reverence and mod- 
esty are due, no less than truth and affection. " 

In October of this year died the Hon. James Bow- 
doin. He had ever been a member of, and a bene- 
factor to, the church of Brattle Street.* It was in 
his family that the pastor of Brattle Street was re- 
ceived with so much kindness, while the former was 
ambassador, and the latter was visiting Paris in 1806. 
To him, and to Mrs. Bowdoin, was he continually in- 
debted for the expression of a warm and most affection- 
ate friendship. A part of the sermon preached the Sab- 
bath after his interment was published, the closing para- 
graphs of which are here inserted. 

"But I see before me an object f which admonishes us 
that the usual time of service has elapsed, while we have 
been speaking of him whose name it bears. Once it re- 
minded us of his bounty ; now it reminds us of his de- 
parture. Once it told us that he remembered us ; now it 
calls on us to remember him. Lately it measured the hand- 
breadth of his age, as it now measures our own ; 

* Mr. Bowdoin, in his will, left fifty pounds to the church in Brat- 
tle Square, and fifty to the pastor. 

t The former clock in the church in Brattle Square was given by 
Governor Bowdoin; but as it was old and much out of repair, the late 
Mr. Bowdoin replaced it not long before his death by the present 
time-piece. 



HON. JAMES BOWDOIN. 439 

but to him hours and weeks and days and years revolve 
no more ! He has entered on an unmeasurable period ! 

" How fair an emblem is this of man himself; — always 
passing on, yet unconscious of his own motion ! When we 
fix our attention on the moment which is passing, we seem 
to arrest it. We discern no lapse. All appears stationary, 
and the time is long and tedious. But let us withdraw our 
attention from the dial, and yield ourselves for a few 
moments to the usual succession of thoughts, and when we 
return again to examine the index of our time, what a space 
has been traversed ! 

" Is it possible that a minute can be made to appear so 
long by attention ? How long, then, might the whole of 
life be made to appear, would we but attend to it, and vigi- 
lantly mark and improve the hours ! But that steady 

monitor proceeds, whether we mark or not its motion. Here, 
in the place of our solemnities, it measures off some of the 
most important portions of life. Presently the shadows of 
the evening will rest on this holy place, and this house be 
emptied of its worshippers. Presently, after a few more 
revolutions of those unconscious indexes, not one of these 
worshippers will be heard of on earth. The places which 
now know them will know them no more for ever ; and when 
it is asked, Where are they ? the answer must be, They are 
gone to appear before God ! 

" Lord, make us to know the measure of our days 

to mark the shadow of our lives ! For man that is born of 
woman fleeth as a shadow and continueth not." 

One other production of his pen belonging to this year 
or the preceding, is a memorial addressed to the Over- 
seers of the College, upon the subject nearest his heart, 
a professorship of sacred literature. This is an elo- 
quent paper ; but as the object, holding in his estimation - 
so profound an interest, was this year effected, this me- 
morial could have had but a passing interest. 



440 ANOINTMENT AS LECTURER 

His sermons this year were not inferior in interest to 
any that he had preached. By a memorandum, pre- 
served among his papers, it appears that he wrote, in 
the course of the year, fifty-seven, and preached in his 
own pulpit sixty-nine times. 

" This year, 1811, he received a proof of the estimation 
in which his knowledge in his favorite walk of study was 
held, by his appointment as first lecturer on Biblical criti- 
cism, upon the foundation established by the Hon. Samuel 
Dexter. This appointment was universally thought to be 
an honor most justly due to his preeminent attainments in 
this science." * 

His reply to the letter of appointment was as fol- 
lows : — 

"To the Rev. Dr. Kirkland, President of the University in 
Cambridge : — 

"Sir, — I have received from you the official notice of 
my unexpected appointment to the office of first lecturer on 
the Dexter foundation. The trustees will please to accept 
my acknowledgments for the honor which they have con- 
ferred, and of which you, sir, have informed me in a man- 
ner that deserves my gratitude. Nothing, beside the cus- 
tomary pleas of want of leisure and abilities, has occurred 
to me as a peculiar objection to my acceptance of this duty, 
except the previous* conviction that the introductory lectures, 
on this difficult' subject, should be entrusted to some one 
whose age and acknowledged merits in theology would gain 
for them more consideration than will probably be secured 
by the present appointment. 

" If this suggestion has already received the full consid- 
eration which it seems to me to deserve, and of which, but 
for the result of your meeting, I should have no doubt, I 

* Thacher's Memoir. 



ON BIBLICAL CRITICISM. 441 

am ready to submit to the final opinion of those whom I 
have always been accustomed to respect, and, if they 
should so determine, prepare myself, as well as the time 
allowed, and my own health, will permit, to execute the du- 
ties of the appointment." 

Mr. Buckminster received this appointment with the 
highest gratification ; although there is no doubt of the 
sincerity and real diffidence with which he suggested 
that some older theologian should deliver the introduc- 
tory lectures. He began an extensive preparation with 
the greatest ardor, and by a minute review of his former 
reading. He immediately sent a large order to Ger- 
many for books, and began the study of the German 
language with such intensity of interest as to deprive 
him of sleep. Every hour of the day was occupied 
with its appropriate duty ; but, to secure the acquisition 
of German, he made the effort of rising two hours 
earlier in the morning, intending to retire earlier at 
night. The master was engaged for six o'clock in the 
morning, and the pupil was usually ready ; but it was 
impossible to keep the second part of the resolution, — 
that of retiring early. Like all persons of ardent and 
nervous temperament, the fear of sleeping too late, and 
the intensity of interest in a new study, deprived him 
of the blessed refreshment of sleep, at the very time he 
most needed its restorative powers. His sister writes, 
in a letter of this date : — " Joseph, I fear, will make 
himself ill, for he has taken it into his head to study 
German, and, for this purpose, has a master with him 
from six to eight o'clock in the morning. It is true 
he has generally gone to bed rather before his usual 
time ; but he is so much interested, that he sleeps very 
little." 



44£ STUDY OF GERMAN. 

It was in consequence of the appointment of lecturer 
that he began the study of German. It appears, by a 
letter to Dr. Herbert Marsh, of the preceding year, that 
it had been hitherto precluded by other studies. 

"May 13th, 1810. 

"Sir, — I have no excuse to offer for the presumption 
of directing these lines to you, except admiration of your 
learning, gratitude for your labors, and the persuasion that 
it will not be disagreeable to you to receive from this re- 
mote region an edition of Griesbach's Greek Testament, 
executed with care and accuracy. It is copied, page for 
page, from Goschen's octavo edition, Leipsic, 1805, which 
I was so fortunate as to bring with me from Europe, and 
to persuade the government of our University, at Cam- 
bridge, to reprint and introduce as a text-book. The young 
gentleman who gives you this note* is intended for a 
preacher, and proposes to finish his studies at Edinburg. 
But, as soon as I learned that you had commenced a course of 
lectures at Cambridge, I admitted the hope that some of my 
young countrymen might have the privilege of hearing 
them ; upon what terms this may be obtained I have re- 
quested him to inquire, and, if possible, avail himself of 
this opportunity. 

" I had the happiness of spending a few days at Cam- 
bridge in the summer of 1807, but you were absent. By 
the kindness of Dr. Abthorp, and his friends, of Emanuel 
College, I received every attention, which I remember with 
the utmost kindness and gratitude. But, sir, I feel under in- 
expressible obligations to you for the translation of Mi- 
chaelis, which has made a new era in my mind, and I am 
almost ashamed to express the impatience with which I an- 
ticipate the conclusion of your notes. 

" Such is the extent of my parish, and the variety of my 

* Rev. Francis Parkman, D. D., of Boston. 



HABITS OF STUDY. 443 

duties to that, as well as to society at large, that I have 
neither time nor courage at present for the acquisition of the 
German language. And yet there are several points of 
theological inquiry which I burn to explore, and I would 
willingly relinquish all knowledge of French for this single 
acquisition. But at present I feel condemned to painful ig- 
norance, encouraging myself with the hope that you, or 
some of your pupils, will soon do that for Eichhorn which 
you have done so well for Michaelis." 

It would be perhaps a fruitless wish to endeavour to 
give the reader an idea of the intensity of interest with 
which he pursued his new study, and all the studies 
connected with his new object. His love of study had 
always been the passion of his soul, and accounts for a 
peculiarity of manner mentioned by his former biog- 
rapher. 

" Though he was eminently and habitually cheerful," 
says Mr. Thacher, " there were occasional inequalities in 
his manner ; and there were moments when there appeared 
in him a sort of reserve, and want of interest in those about 
him, which made his character misunderstood by some who, 
if they had known him more, would have found him formed 
to engage all their esteem and love. These occasional de- 
partures from his habitual manners were, I am confident, to 
be traced to his bodily indisposition. Many of his friends, 
who have entered his room when he was suffering under 
this effect of disease, well remember, that, after a few mo- 
ments' conversation, he would shake off the oppression of 
his languor, his wonted smile would play over his features, 
that peculiar animation which usually lighted up his coun- 
tenance would again break out, and he would enter into 
any subject proposed with the warmest and liveliest in- 
terest." 



ill INTELLECTUAL HABITS. 

I should give a different solution of his apparent ab- 
sence of manner at some moments. He was a thorough 
student. His heart was in his studies. When he was 
employed with his books, during the day, he was per- 
petually withdrawn from them by the various interrup- 
tions of business and friends. When, therefore, he was 
broken in upon, while his attention was wholly absorbed 
by some favorite study, he could not immediately re- 
cover the elasticity of his mind, and enter into a subject 
wholly foreign, or into the cares or the pleasures of his 
visitor. That he had moments of deep depression, 
when he reflected upon the probable consequences of 
his malady, is, no doubt, true ; but he never allowed 
himself in any morbid contemplation of possible evils. 
His faith in the beneficence of God was the ruling influ- 
ence of his mind. I cannot so well describe his intel- 
lectual habits as in the words of the elegant biography 
to which I have been so often indebted. 

" In his intellectual habits, I do not remember to have re- 
marked any singularity. He was a real student. He had 
that first requisite of all true and durable greatness, — the 
habit of patient and long-continued attention. He possessed 
the genuine tyikonovia, the love of labor for itself. He 
could delight in the driest and most minute researches, as 
well as in the lofty and ethereal visions of fancy. Like 
the majority of men of learning, he loved to read more 
than to think, and to think more than to write. He com- 
posed with rapidity, but with intellectual toil ; and his best 
efforts were not made without a high degree of mental ex- 
citement. If I were required to state, in one word, in what 
branch of knowledge his excellence was most conspicuous, 
I should say it was philology, — understanding by this word 
the knowledge of language as an instrument of thought, in 



PHILOLOGICAL STUDIES. 445 

all its propriety and force, as well as in all its shades and 
varieties of meaning ; in its general theory, as well as in 
its modifications in different countries ; and, finally, in all its 
grace and beauty, as it is fitted to invest truth in its richest 
and most attractive dress. 

" But it was the light which philology pours on the rec- 
ords of our faith and hope, which gave it its chief value to 
the mind of Mr. Buckminster. It was the study of the 
Scriptures in their original languages, which most power- 
fully seized and occupied his attention, and engaged him in 
a course of inquiries which he never thought himself at lib- 
erty long to desert. He was always of opinion that the 
principles of Christianity, in their original purity and sim- 
plicity, were to be preserved where they are already held, 
and recalled where they are lost or obscured, only by the 
study of the Bible, according to the maxims of a sound, 
and enlightened, and cautious criticism. One of his strong- 
est passions was a desire to diffuse a love of Biblical studies ; 
and the impulse, among us, which has lately been given to 
inquiries on these subjects, is to be attributed to his exer- 
tions and example."* 

To the above I am permitted to add the testimony 
of one who knew him well, and who was eminently able 
to appreciate his attainments, f 

" Mr. Buckminster was a thorough scholar, and always a 
diligent student. In theology, he belonged to the class^of 
liberal inquirers. But, though deeply sensible of his duty 
to derive his faith from the Christian Scriptures, and un- 
willing to submit his understanding to the dictation of 
others, he had too strong a mind, and far too much learn- 
ing, as well as too profound a sense of responsibility, to 
permit of his embracing any of those wild opinions which 

* Thacher's Memoir. t Mr. William Wells. 

38 



446 INTELLECTUAL CHARACTER. 

are supposed, by those who hold them, to be modern discov- 
eries, but which he knew had been long ago examined and 
refuted. He was thoroughly acquainted with the writings of 
the eminent English Unitarians of the last century, and held 
them in high estimation, not only for having done so much 
towards the introduction and establishment of liberal in- 
quiries in England, but as having introduced into this coun- 
try those principles of Scripture interpretation which have 
spread so widely, and to the support and dissemination of 
which he himself contributed so eminently and largely." 

The various accounts which have been given of Mr. 
Buckminster's studies indicate very distinctly the char- 
acter of his intellect ; they enable us to anticipate what 
he would have accomplished had his life been spared, 
and the influence he might have exerted upon the litera- 
ture of the country. His mind was not of that lofty 
character which can dwell perpetually in abstractions, 
and win for itself glory in metaphysical and mathematical 
science. His mind was rapid and clear in its operations, 
and both inventive and illustrative ; correct, acute, and 
thorough in criticism. He was able to compass, by a 
rapid intellectual survey, directed by quick moral per- 
ceptions, that which the moral reasoner arrives at by 
slow and laborious processes. I avail myself here of 
the words of a friend and classmate,* in describing the 
character of his intellect. 

" I confine myself," says his friend, " principally to liter- 
ature, in the limited and appropriate signification of the term. 
He was not a man of science, as that term is technically 
used. The mathematics he did not love. He had no taste 
for abstract studies, and in this early part of his life he man- 

* Rev. Joshua Bates, D. D. 



INTELLECTUAL CHARACTER. 447 

ifested an aversion to metaphysical speculations and tran- 
scendental nights of fancy. It is true, he made himself ac- 
quainted with what may be called the ' literature of sci- 
ence.' He knew the origin, the progress, the state, indeed 
the whole history, of every science of the age. -He could 
tell who made each discovery, and who was the inventor of 
the instruments, and what were the appliances by which it 
was made. He could speak learnedly of the character and 
merits of the philosophers of all ages and countries, and 
beautifully illustrate the topics of literature on which he des- 
canted by appropriate allusions to the success of scientific 
principles. But here his intercourse with the sciences, es- 
pecially the abstract sciences, ended. The principles them- 
selves he never investigated. The details of classification 
and the tedious steps of demonstration he never pursued. 
He had no taste for the study of the pure mathematics, nor 
did he relish at all the tardy and entangled processes of log- 
ical deduction and metaphysical disquisition. 

" At the period of our college life, very little oral instruc- 
tion was imparted to the students. Two public lectures were 
delivered, and no familiar illustrations were given in con- 
nection with the study of the prescribed text-books. Of 
course, the acquisitions of students depended very much on 
their own efforts and ingenuity. Every one had much time 
to devote to studies of his own choice, and the education ob- 
tained by any was, much more than at present, self-educa- 
tion. The kind and degree of each one's attainment cor- 
responded very nearly with his taste, capacity, and efforts, 
his genius and industry. This fact made Mr. Buckminster 
a man of literature rather than of science ; a scholar of 
high order, but not of universal attainments ; a man of learn- 
ing as well as genius, but not distinguished for deep re- 
search and analytical investigation ; a model in matters of 
taste, grammatical accuracy, and rhetorical beauty, but not 
in logical deduction, abstract reasoning, and philosophical 
criticism. 



i 1 N INTELLECTUAL CHARACTER. 

" I should speak of the fixedness of his attention to the 
chosen objects of his contemplation, and the perfect com- 
mand which he possessed over the current of his associated 
thoughts, as the first and most obvious quality of his mind. 
His perceptive powers were quick and excursive. This has 
already been stated with reference to the rapid movement 
and far-searching glance of his eye. But the statement 
should not be confined to the sense of sight. The remark 
might be extended with truth to all his organs and powers of 
perception, for they were all connected with a keen and del- 
icate sensibility, and directed by an irrepressible desire of 
knowledge. 

" Of the principles of association, on which memory and 
imagination, comparison and the processes of reasoning de- 
pend, as they were developed in his mind and exercised in 
his literary career, by which he acquired knowledge so easi- 
ly and rapidly, and by which his acquisitions were held so 
firmly, and held in such distinct classification as to be always 
ready for appropriate use, — of these principles, as they ex- 
isted in his mind, I should say they were those which belong 
to the poet rather than the philosopher. His mind moved, 
indeed, habitually under the control of the will, and, with a 
self-command rarely possessed, he was able to exclude from 
it everv unwelcome thought and intruding idea, and his as- 

sociations were such as fitted him to excel in literature 

His imagination was at once excursive and brilliant, chaste, 
correct, and rich in its combinations, furnishing copious ma- 
terials for rhetorical embellishment. Indeed, it may be af- 
firmed, though he did not write poetry, he was ' born a poet,' 
and possessed all the elements of poetic genius. Had he 
been willing, in his literary career, to stop at the foot of Par- 
nassus and drink largely of the waters of the Castalian fount, 
and sport long with the Muses that play on its banks, he 
might have been inspired with the spirit of poetry, and have 
become in his dav the Poet of America. 



INTELLECTUAL CHARACTER. 449 

" In conclusion, I subjoin the following strong but sincere" 
remark. Among all my literary friends in college, and during 
a long life of familiarity with men distinguished in the several 
departments of learning and the learned professions in vari- 
ous parts of our country, I have never found one who 
seemed to me to possess more of that indescribable charac- 
ter of mind, or rather, I should say, a more complete com- 
bination of those intellectual powers and susceptibilities which 
we usually denominate genius, than Joseph Stevens Buck- 
minster. I have known men of more universal scholarship 
and men of more dazzling wit ; indeed, I was about to make 
an exception in favor of Fisher Ames, who, in some respects, 
especially in the sudden bursts of eloquence, and the brilliant 
train of thought, and rich display of metaphor, which marked 
his public speeches and even his private conversation, cer- 
tainly excelled all men of my acquaintance. But notwith- 
standing this modification, I can make no essential abatement 
from the general statement expressive of my admiration of* 
Buckminster's genius. He, indeed, furnished my standard 
of genius ; for his was a genius pure and elevated, steady 
and uniform in its movements, exempt from the depressions 
of morbid sensibility and the erratic nights of spasmodic 
action." 

Those pursuits which were entirely voluntary, discon- 
nected with the wide field of duty, the little garden of 
delight reserved for his leisure hours, — if be may be 
said to have had any leisure hours, — were the study of 
the ancient classics, particularly the Greek and Latin 
poets. In this connection I cannot refuse myself the 
pleasure of introducing, although it is somewhat out of 
place, the description of his translation of a passage of 
Homer when he was only thirteen years old. 

" I remember, in particular," says the friend just referred 
to, " his admirable reading and translation of a long passage 
38* 



450 CHARACTER OF HIS SERMONS. 

' in the Iliad of Homer. He read the Greek as if it had been 
his vernacular language, with ease, pliancy, and expressive- 
ness, and his translation was at once free and accurate, neat 
and comprehensive, perspicuous and elegant. Indeed, the 
very soul of the poet seemed to be infused into the beautiful 
and expressive language of the translator. I had never 
heard Homer so read and so translated, and the admiration 
felt by me was evidently felt by all present." 

Here, perhaps, some few remarks maybe appropriate 
upon the sermons, which now remain as the only evi- 
dence of the character and genius which, by the consent 
of all who knew him, have been ascribed to Mr. Buck- 
minster. His active ministry, excluding the time he 
passed in Europe, amounted to six years. In that time, 
he wrote about two hundred and forty sermons. It may, 
in truth, be said that it is not what one accomplishes in 
life, but what one is, which constitutes greatness ; some- 
thing there is in the character which outruns all the per- 
formance. Campbell lived to old age, and wrote a great 
number of books ; but his Hope, his Gertrude of Wyo- 
ming, and his deathless songs alone, will tell to future 
ages that Campbell lived. Goethe said to Eckermann, 
" Half a million of my own money, the fortune I inher- 
ited, my salary, and the large income derived from my 
writings for fifty years, have been expended to make me 
what I now am." Of the sermons in question, it has 
been well said that none of them seem to be the result 
of any extraordinary effort, like the grand sermons of 
Robert Hall, or some of the splendid performances of 
Dr. Channing ; "but they are rather the usual and 
easy production of a mind, whose ordinary movements 
were high and beautiful, and which left its own impress 
of genius upon all its works."- They are character 



CHARM OF HIS ENUNCIATION. 451 

passed into thought, — " earnest feeling,^steeped in that 
beauty which emanates from genius inspired by faith." 
No one of the sermons, therefore, surpasses very much 
the others. They are the ordinary expression of his 
usual train of thought. Of the sermons which remain 
unpublished, there is scarcely one which does not contain 
passages of eminent beauty and power. The efforts of 
such a mind cannot be measured. The diurnal rule of 
such a life is benefaction. 

In speaking of his sermons, also, the peculiar charm 
and power of his oratory should never be omitted. 
" The impression they made depended, in no small de- 
gree, upon the distinctness of articulation, the propriety 
of pronunciation, the melody of intonation, the power of 
emphasis and expression, together with the perfect sym- 
metry of action and completeness of enunciation." The 
remarks of a classmate * are here quoted in proof of the 
power and charm of his reading. 

44 At the close of the meeting of a 4 Composition Club,' 
where he had been the reader of the anonymous pieces 
drawn from the secret box, it was remarked, 4 When Buck- 
minster reads, all the compositions are good.' No one, as 
it seemed to me, could read like him, and give to every letter 
its full power, to every syllable its distinct weight, to every 
word its just emphasis and appropriate modulation, to every 
phrase and sentence their precise meaning, their complete 
and expressive import. His excellent reading was, indeed, 
the foundation of his enchanting eloquence, and his eloquent 
delivery gave the crowning glory to his compositions. Were 
you now to go about among the elderly members of the 
Brattle Street congregation, and ask them what they think 

* Rev. Dr. Bates. 



453 GRACE AND BEAUTY OF 

of Mr. Buekminster's published sermons, they would, I think, 
tell you, that, excellent as they consider these discourses, 
they are altogether inferior to many which they heard him 
preach. They might not be aware of the cause of this 
inferiority : but to the philosophic mind, accustomed to ana- 
lyze, that cause must be obvious at once. It is found in 
his delivery, — his excellent reading, combined with the 
beauty of his person and his appropriate action, — in the 
various qualities which, united, go to form complete ele- 
gance and constitute a perfect orator. Such truly was 
Buckminster. His enunciation and expression, his brilliant 
eye, the mingled sweetness and strength, solemnity and 
cheerfulness, intelligence and pathos, which continually per- 
vaded and animated his whole countenance while speaking, 
gave to his discourses more than half their charm, and en- 
abled him to exert an absolute control over the feelings of 
his audience. 

" If it were proper to apply the term beauty in describing 
the personal appearance of any man, I should say, that no 
man ever possessed in a higher degree than -he the ele- 
ments of this quality. And the influence which this had 
on his popularity as a public speaker, and even as a preach- 
er, was, as I have intimated, by no means unimportant. It 
ought not therefore to be omitted, in an attempt to delineate 
his character as an orator. As he stood in the pulpit and 
delivered his message, you could discover no defect in form 
or manner, in attitude or movement, in utterance or ex- 
pression ; — all was symmetry, propriety, elegance. He was 
indeed a model as a pulpit orator, and his personal charm 
and eloquence of manner forcibly illustrated to my mind 
bv positive example the wisdom of that negative injunc- 
tion of the Levitical law, ' Xo man that hath a blemish of 
the seed of Aaron the priest shall come nigh to offer the 
offerincrs of the Lord.' " 



HIS APPEARANCE IN THE PULPIT. 453 

Few are living who can remember his appearance 
in the pulpit. Its chief characteristic was that of deep- 
ly felt, calm, but fervent devotion. His prayers, of 
which a large number remain among his papers, in the 
earliest part of his ministry, were written and com- 
mitted to memory. They are marked by simplicity 
and appropriate Scripture language. They express 
the wants, the longings, the contrition, the aspiration, 
and the gratitude 'of deeply experienced human hearts. 
His object in writing his prayers seems to have been 
to make them the true devotion of the soul, the ex- 
pression of the intellect as well as the heart. They 
were uttered with a calm, unimpassioned fervor, which 
contrasted with the animated and exhilarating tone of 
the sermon. The music of the hymn, as it came from 
his " melodious voice," was felt in newer and deeper 
meanings imparted to every sentiment, opening to the 
hearer a new sense in the ear and in the soul. 

Of the sermons which have been published, it is but 
just to regard them as the compositions of early life, 
called forth by the ordinary occasions of every passing 
week. Had he lived, probably not one of the sermons, 
as now printed, would have been given to the press. 
He steadily resisted all applications to print his sermons 
during his life, only two having been yielded to the 
requests of the hearers, — those on the deaths of Gov- 
ernor Sullivan and Rev. William Emerson. It was 
his habit to write more than once on the same subject. 
Sermons written in 1804 were rewritten in 1808 ; and 
as his mind expanded, and the same theme was clothed 
with thoughts of greater depth and power, he would 
have subjected them to a severe revisal, or he would 
have enriched them with passages of greater energy and 



454 LAST LETTER TO HIS FATHER. 

beauty, as his own mind became enriched with inward 
illumination or with the acquisitions of time. 

It has been already mentioned, that the cares of "his 
ministry increased in great disproportion to the increase 
of his strength. After his appointment to the lecture- 
ship at Cambridge, he redoubled his exertions, and 
began, as has been mentioned, to study another language. 
This, with the kindred subjects to which it led, inter- 
ested him so deeply as to deprive him of sleep ; but to 
his friends he had never appeared more brilliant, more 
equal to every duty, more animated and efficient, than 
immediately before his last illness. The seizure was 
as unexpected as it was sudden. The last letter he 
ever wrote to his father follows. It seems to have 
been elicited by anxiety respecting the speculations of 
one of his family, and it mentions cursorily the un- 
usual lassitude which he felt at the approach of warm 
weather. 

" April 23d, 1812. 

" My dear Father, — I have just seen a letter from , 

the reading of which has affected me with the most gloomy 
thoughts. She is now experiencing something of what I 
have myself felt in former 3 r ears, — the unhappiness of see- 
ing her parent cast down and troubled with the thought that 
his children are given up ' to believe a lie ' ; while Chris- 
tianity is continually presented to her, either in a form -which 
she does not understand, or which, as far as she does un- 
derstand it, seems unworthy of the reception of a rational 
creature, or of the authority of a holy and beneficent Father. 
From some expressions in her letter, I began to be afraid 
that her faith in the divine origin of the Gospel was shaken, 
and that, having it continually presented to her mind in the 
revolting forms of Calvinism, she was willing to wish, that, 
if such representations of Christianity were a just picture 



LAST LETTER TO HIS FATHER. 455 

of what should be a most beneficent religion, she would 
be glad to find it not true. Such a result, though I know 
it is by no means uncommon, I should most earnestly depre- 
cate in any one of my relations. I hope she will have more 
strength of mind than to fall into such a state of feeling, 
and that God will enable her to know the truth and value 
of the revelation of his Son Jesus Christ, though she may 
find it difficult to conceive of doctrines which others repre- 
sent as its essential principles. 

"I know, my dear Sir, that you would see with anguish 
her mind so perplexed by the views of Calvinistic Chris- 
tianity as to become indifferent to the news of eternal life 
by Jesus Christ, which, I hope, will never cease to be the 
object of her dearest love and gratitude, and* that she will 
go to the Father by him who has promised to guide us into 
all necessary truth. 

" It is my misfortune to be encompassed with a cloud 
of business, more, I fear, than I can properly attend to, with 
justice to myself or my parishioners. But while my health 
lasts, I dare not refuse any exertion by which we may hope 
to diffuse the blessing of the truth, or to benefit our fellow- 
men. We are now forming a society for the improvement 
of seamen. Is it not worthy attention in every respect ? 
I am persuaded that no class of persons are more suscep- 
tible of deep and permanent religious impressions than 
those who follow the sea. 

" I do not write often, because my sister supplies all my 
deficiencies in that respect. If I felt that my silence was 
the consequence of any diminution of interest or affection 
for you or yours, I should be very unhappy. My health 
has been very good through the winter, but I have found 
myself uncommonly sensible to the relaxing approach of 
warm weather. I do not contemplate any journey before 
the middle of June, when I hope to see you in your 
own home. Your dear son, 

" J. S. B." 



456 ELECTION WEEK IN BOSTON. 

Thus closed the correspondence between father and 
son. That frail health, which he thought it his duty 
not to spare, was already deeply undermined, and the 
words with which he closed his letter had a prophetic 
meaning. He did meet his father before the middle of 
June, in that father's own home, where, we may surely 
believe, they were never separated again. • 

Soon after the date of that letter, came on the week, 
— the so-called election week in Boston, — so crowded 
with business, with societies, with the duties of the pres- 
ent, and the hopes of the future ; when the city throngs 
with strangers, and the moments that are not given to 
exciting occupations and wearying business are ab- 
sorbed by the duties of hospitality, the claims of old 
friendships, and the pleasures of society. My brother 
entered with keen enjoyment into all the various in- 
terests of the week. He was an efficient member, or an 
acting officer, of nearly all the societies of the time, — 
less numerous, indeed, than at present, but -still enough 
to absorb all his leisure, — and he was engaged to preach 
the sermon before the Society for the Promotion of 
Christian Knowledge, Piety, and Charity, on May 26th. 
The election sermon was on Wednesday, and the Con- 
vention, in which he took the warmest interest, was on 
the Thursday following. His ever-watchful sister ob- 
served, that, while writing the sermon for the above- 
mentioned society, he was oppressed by an unusual 
languor, and the sermon, although selected for publica- 
tion, bears evidence of it. An extract from a letter of 
this date shows how the labors of the week had crowded 
upon him. 

" Joseph sat up nearly all night, writing his sermon to 



LAST LABORS. 457 

preach before the society. He has been so engaged with va- 
rious societies, and with company staying in the house, that 
he has had no time. After all, the gentlemen called for him 
when he was writing the last page. He went off without 
his gown. In his hurry, he forgot to put it on. I did not 
perceive it for some time, and then sent it after him, which 
made me too late," etc. 

This forgetting the gown was no proof that his memo- 
ry was failing ; but, it not being the Sabbath, he did 
not think of the usual costume of the pulpit. 

Thus he went on, — no pause, no rest, — in the 
exercise of a benevolence never surpassed, an ardor 
for the good of others rarely equalled. There was 
no voice to warn, — there was no hand to hold him 
back. Others were engaged with him ; but he, with his 
thrilling voice, his ardent eye, and his intrepid and 
buoyant spirit, urged them on. Some few looked on 
with trembling interest, knowing the fatal consequences 
of over-exerting the sensitive brain ; but he had sur- 
vived many such periods of severe labor, and why might 
he not pass uninjured through this one ? 

The ruin came all at once, with instantaneous shock. 
His early prayer was answered. There was no inter- 
val between his active career and his shattered frame. 
At once, as though stricken on sunken rocks, in the 
calm, blue sea, and amidst the cloudless heaven, his 
noble intellect became a wreck. The silver cord en- 
dured no loosening from its hold, — it snapped asunder, 
and was gone ! 

It should certainly be cause of deep gratitude that he 

was cut down at once, without the slow decay, without 

the loss of one of those brilliant and fascinating qualities 

that so won the love of his contemporaries. That he 

39 



45S DEATH OF J. S. BUCKMINSTER. 

did not live to become the sepulchre of his dead intel- 
lect, demands the devout gratitude of all who knew him. 

From the records of an interleaved register, I am able 
to give some account of the employment of the few days 
before the attack of his last, fatal illness. On the 26th 
of May, he preached the sermon already mentioned, and 
attended a funeral in the afternoon. On the 27th, elec- 
tion day, the funerals of two children are recorded. On 
the evening of the 28th, after attending the convention 
of ministers, he performed the ceremony of marriage 
for two couples, apparently at his own house. On Sun- 
day, he repeated, in his own pulpit, with alterations, 
the sermon prepared for the society already mentioned, 
dividing it into two sermons, for morning and afternoon. 
In the evening, he received the usual visitors in his study. 
On Monday afternoon, he met with the association 
of ministers ; and we may easily suppose it was a day of 
more than his usual exhaustion and lassitude, after the 
labors of the week and of the Sabbath. *On Tuesday 
evening, June 2d, he met the committee of the parish 
on parish business, and afterwards attended, and took 
part, as was always a delight to him, with his musical 
society. On Wednesday, he had so violent an access 
of his disorder as completely to prostrate his physical 
powers, and to deprive him- of his reason, which re- 
turned only at momentary intervals during the seven days 
that the struggle between life and death continued. On 
Tuesday, June 9th, he expired, with a serene and bliss- 
ful expression of countenance, that seemed already to 
foreshadow the higher world for which the departing 
spirit was winged. 

During the whole of his short illness, his bed was 
surrounded, and the apartments of the house thronged, 



DEATH OF J. S. BUCKMINSTER. 459 

with anxious friends, lingering, with fond regret, over 
the insensible form from which genius, but not beauty, 
had departed ; listening, with breathless attention, to 
catch the inarticulate sounds, in which the more ex- 
perienced ear of the physician detected the words of 
prayer. Friends and strangers, the merchants, as they 
met on 'change, and all, as they paused from their daily 
toil, whispered to each other words of hope or fear ; 
and a public and fearful calamity seemed to hang over 
the town. 

It is delightful to recollect that the last rational ex- 
ercise of his mind, the last conscious act of his life, 
was joining in the devotional music of the choir of his 
church. Tt was no doubt the very moment in which he 
would wish to die, as he has said, in one of his earliest 
letters, " in the swelling notes of celestial praise, he 
could wish to dissolve into sound." In the music in 
which he delighted, it seemed, indeed, as though de- 
parted spirits came to announce and to bear testimony 
to a future union. The close of his life, so in unison 
with its whole aim, has added a sweetness to his memo- 
ry that embalms it for ever. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

DOMESTIC EVENTS KELATING TO DR. BUCKMINSTER. — JOUR- 
NEY TO CONNECTICUT. CHEERFULNESS AND UNINTER- 
RUPTED HEALTH FOR FOUR YEARS. HIS LAST ILLNESS, 

AND DEATH. INTERMENT. MONUMENT. FUNERAL 

SERVICES AT PORTSMOUTH AND BOSTON. REINTERMENT 

AND MONUMENT OF J. S. BUCKMINSTER. 

As vve draw towards the close of the life of 
Dr. Buckminster, I would fain record that the 
cheerfulness and apparent health which he enjoyed in 
1808, and the three succeeding years, had suffered no 
interruption. He had been, through life, a man of much 
domestic grief. The sensibility of his heart had been 
often wrung by the loss of children at the age when they 
are the most lovely and attractive, — when the opening 
faculties awaken the most tender interest in the parent, 
and the sorrow occasioned by their loss is as acu e, 
though not perhaps as enduring, as when they die at a 
later age. At the loss of his second wife, in 1805, 
whom he loved with a passion fond almost to idolatry, 
those who witnessed the agony of his grief trembled, 
lest his reason or his life should become the sacrifice to 
an attachment to which the energy of his soul and the 
sensibility of his heart were wholly given. 

In 1808, and in the three succeeding years, he had 
recovered from the desolating effect of this and other 



VISIT TO NEW HAVEN. 461 

losses. His daughter remarks, in a letter found in the 
preceding pages, that she had never known him in bet- 
ter health and spirits. His daughters were now old 
enough to be to their father, not only domestic assist- 
ants, but companions and friends ; and the more youth- 
ful society that was drawn to the parsonage, by finding 
companions of their own age there, was a great acces- 
sion of pleasure and of cheerful conversation to Dr. 
Buckminster himself. My brother, also, when he came 
from Boston to visit his family, was usually accompa- 
nied by one of his young friends, which added much to 
the cheerfulness of the party assembled in what w 7 as 
called, par eminence, u the little parlour." 

In the summer of 1808, he allowed himself the rec- 
reation of a journey to the beloved scenes of his youth. 
As he travelled with his own horse and chaise, and a 
daughter for a companion, it was a journey of formi- 
dable length. He visited New Haven, at the season 
of Commencement, and enjoyed, for the last time, the 
renewal of old associations, and the delightful remi- 
niscences of college days. It was true that younger 
classes had risen up " which knew not Joseph," yet it 
was a singular and fortunate circumstance, that a large 
number of the class of 1770 had, like him, gone up to 
visit their Alma Mater, and others of the classes to 
whom he had been tutor, so that the renewal of old as- 
sociations was as complete and delightful as possible. 

In 1809, he was twice invited to preach occasional 
sermons, — at the ordination of Rev. Mr. Thurston, at 
Manchester, N. H., and before the Female Charitable 
Society of Newburyport. Both of the sermons were 
requested for the press, and they are among the most 
vigorous and interesting of his productions. 
39* 



462 FAMILY OF DFt. BUCKMINSTER. 

It was a peculiar cause of anxiety to Dr. Buckmin- 
ster, that the solitary situation of h s son, (obliged to 
make the parsonage-house bis residence.) and his singular 
liability to illness, compelled the necessity of dividing 
his family, and the sacrifice of the society of his eldest 
daughter. The second was, unfortunately, at that time, 
too much of an invalid to be much from under the pa- 
rental roof, and the others were all too young to leave 
home, except under the care of the elder sisters. But, 
as their brother's house was a pleasant residence, and 
Boston presented so much rarer advantages of education 
for the younger children, one or two were constantly 
with their brother, and away from home. To a man 
so tender in his domestic affections, these blanks in the 
family circle were peculiarly painful. 

At the time of which I speak, Dr. Buckminster's ap- 
pearance was that of a person in the full vigor of life. 
In 1S0S, he was fifty-seven years old. His remarkably 
striking form was unbent and unworn. The" raven black 
of his hair was just beginning to be streaked with gray, 
and the temples were fringed with silver. He was 
often, at this period of his life, while he was a widower, 
solicited to join social parties, where his daughters were 
invited, and his presence, while it checked all undue 
mirth, was thought to add much to the cheerfulness of 
the party. But the young were not those with whom he 
could the most readily find sympathy, and, while his 
house was filled with them, he often, no doubt, felt 
doubly alone. 

His salary had never been more than a very moderate 
support for his large family : money, however, for any 
purposes but those of beneficence, and for the education 
of his children, had little value in his eves. The ab- 



AN INTERVAL OF HAPPINESS. 463 

sence of all worldliness is perhaps a defect, for children 
should be taught the value of money sufficiently to de- 
sire to avoid the absolute want of it. After his marriage, 
in the summer of 1810, he left the parsonage-house and 
removed to a more commodious dwelling, the property 
of his wife. His marriage placed him beyond all anx- 
iety with regard to pecuniary concerns. It is due to 
his delicate sense of justice to state, that the property 
which came into his possession by his last marriage 
was returned immediately by bequest. His will, exe- 
cuted the day after the solemnization of his marriage, is 
in these words : — 

" Secondly. To my beloved wife Abigail, I return, by 
bequest, all that estate, real and personal, or mixed, of 
which she was possessed (when she became my wife) by 
the will of her late husband, Colonel Eliphalet Ladd ; to be 
not only for her use during her life, but to be at her dispos- 
al, and to her heirs and assigns for ever, as completely as 
if no connection had taken place between us ; and as to 
the little property which I possess, separate from that which 
fell into my hands through her courtesy and confidence, it is 
my will, that my said beloved wife should have the income 
of it during her continuing my widow, if she chooses to re- 
tain it." 

He had now enjoyed uninterrupted health and spirits 
for more than four years. He seemed to have taken 
a new lease of life, and his friends saw no reason why 
he might not attain to the age of the most long-lived of 
his ancestors ; but, as was mentioned in the last chap- 
ter, at the close of the year 1811, those of his family 
who were most intimate with the peculiarities of his con- 
stitution, saw, with anguish, that a nameless depression, 
an apparently causeless anxiety, was beginning to gather 



464 RECURRENCE OF DEPRESSION. 

in dark clouds over his mind. Physical disease, which 
baffled the sagacity of science, no doubt affected him ; 
but it assumed the outward form of mental depression, 
nervous distress, and agitation. In May, 1812, he be- 
came much more ill, and change of scene amid the health- 
ful influences of nature was proposed, and a journey to 
the western part of New York was resolved upon, which 
was to begin early in June. 

At this time his illness did not take the usual form of 
morbid and exaggerated conscientiousness ; it was a gen- 
eral distrust of himself, his power of sustaining his min- 
istry, and a fear lest he should be the cause of unhappi- 
ness to others. He continued to perform the public 
services of his church on the Sabbath, and to receive 
his friends, and those who were unacquainted with his 
malady perceived no cause for uneasiness. 

The last Sabbath in May, he felt a strong persuasion 
that he should never again address his people. As his 
journey was to be commenced on Tuesday, and the Sab- 
bath was the last day of the month, the communion was 
celebrated on that day, that he might enjoy once more 
with his beloved church that last act of affection and 
devotion to his Divine Master. His services were un- 
usually fervent and pathetic, and he seemed to feel a pro- 
phetic foreboding that it was the last time his voice would 
ever be heard from that table of his Lord. He did not 
go out in the afternoon, and the succeeding night was one 
of distress and agitation. His daughter and his friend, 
Rev. Mr. Parker, watched with him through the night. 
It was spent by him in fervent prayers, interrupted at in- 
tervals by bursts of uncontrollable emotion. It was the 
night preceding the first of June, and the unusual warmth 
of the season allowed all the windows to be open. The 



LAST JOURNEY. 465 

garden beneath the windows, hushed in the sweet re- 
pose of moonlight, was all white with the full blossom of 
fruit trees, whose fragrance ascended upon the night- 
breeze to the watchers by that beloved but afflicted spirit. 
How striking was the contrast between the joyful repose 
of nature and the jarring discords of the human soul ; 
but never, during any of the wild conflicts of emotion, 
did he lose for a moment the gentle sweetness of his 
manners, or a tender devotion to the comfort of others. 
Arrangements had been made for his departure on a 
journey the next morning as far as the Saratoga Springs ; 
and, upon his return, he would visit his son and daughter 
in Boston. He was to be accompanied by his wife and a 
gentleman of middle age, who was a member of his church, 
also by a young man, at that time a student of divinity. 
His young friend, the Rev. Mr. Parker, had so endeared 
himself to Dr. Buckminster by the warmth of his sym- 
pathy, that the sufferer. could not bear to part with him ; 
and the latter was persuaded to accompany him a part of 
the way on his journey. The prayer that he offered in 
his family the morning of his departure was so touching 
in its pathetic earnestness, that it melted his young chil- 
dren to tears. Observing them weeping, he said, with 
the most cheerful smile, as he stepped into the carriage, 
" Be not anxious, — all will be well ! " It was an in- 
expressible consolation to them, thus orphaned in their 
youth, to remember that the last kind words that fell 
from his lips were those of encouragement and peace. 

The following notices of the remaining days of Dr. 
Buckminster's life are derived from the journal sent to 
his daughter by the young student who accompanied 
him on his journey. The party left Portsmouth on the 



466 LAST JOURNEY AND ILLNESS. 

first or second day of June. The season was more en- 
chanting than can be imagined ; the air was loaded with 
the fragrance of blossoming trees ; the tender grass was 
of an emerald green ; the temperature balmy as the air 
of Paradise ; and a spirit of beauty seemed to move over 
the earth to cure all sadness but despair. 

" June 2d. After proceeding a short distance, the con- 
versation turned upon the goodness of God, as displayed in 
the beauty of nature. Mr. Parker observed, that ' all nature 
appeared to smile in praise of the Creator.' 4 Yes,' replied 
Dr. Buckminster, and tears filled his eyes, ' we are travelling 
amidst the loveliest works of God.' Mr. Parker said it was 
a wise and benevolent dispensation of Heaven, that the ac- 
ceptableness of our actions did not depend on a high excita- 
tion of the affections and feelings ; but a course of devout 
action might be continued when the ardor of feeling that 
prompted it had subsided ; for such was the limitation of our 
nature, that we could neither long e.ndure keen elevation nor 
always possess uniform cheerful assurance ; and if the ar- 
dor of feeling were requisite to the right performance of ac- 
tions, we should not be able, when it was in exercise, to do 
properly the business of life. But, as we are constituted, 
having begun a series of good actions from right principle, 
we may continue them from habit, after the vividness of 
emotion has subsided. Dr. Buckminster smiled ; ' I think,' 
he said, ' that you have given us a true and philosophical 
statement of the subject.' 

" In the afternoon, the conversation turned upon the Hop- 
kinsian system. The Dr. asked me if I had read a certain 
treatise upon the points of difference between Hopkins and 
Calvin, adding, that he had lately been reading it. Upon my 
observing that the difference between Hopkinsians and rigid 
Calvinists appeared to be merely nominal, he replied, — 
1 There is a difference. The former hold, that, if it were 



LAST JOURNEY AND ILLNESS. 467 

for the glory of God, a soul must be willing to be eternally 
miserable ; which implies, that the believer must be willing 
to be in a state that would for ever deprive him of the pres- 
ence of God, and where his name was blasphemed. Hop- 
kinsians also ascribe the origin of evil to God, — an assertion 
that Calvinists reject.' 

" The next day, speaking of the origin of writing, I ob- 
served that the law of the ten commandments was said to be 
written by the finger of God. The Dr. answered, that 
* this, like many other passages of the Scriptures, must be- 
taken figuratively ; they were probably written by Moses.' 

" His friend, Mr. Parker, quitted the party at Newburyport 
to return to Portsmouth. In attempting to give him a message 
for his children, Dr. Buckminster's emotion was so great that 
he desisted from the attempt. After Mr. Parker left him, 
his dejection increased, and his mind seemed clouded with a 
settled gloom. Passing through Chelmsford, he saw some 
children at play by the school-house, and burst into involun- 
tary tears. Upon inquiring the cause of this sudden expres- 
sion of sensibility, he said, 4 they brought to his mind his 
own children, the sorrow they were destined to suffer, and 
their inability, from their youth and retired education, to 
contend with the difficulties of life.' After his emotion had 
subsided, he conversed upon the scenes of his early life, 
of his collegiate pursuits, and the advantages of the exact 
sciences in strengthening the mind, and inducing habits of 
correct reasoning." 

At Newburyport, he had met his brother and sister, 
Mr. and Mrs. Tappan, returning from Boston. He ex- 
pressed to his sister, more fully than he had to his chil- 
dren, his entire conviction that the journey would be 
of no avail ; he had undertaken it at the desire of 
friends, and would go on, but he felt a firm persuasion 
in his own mind that he never should return to Ports- 
mouth. 



468 LAST JOURNEY AND ILLNESS. 

In that distressing night previous to his leaving home, 
the physician had thought proper to take a quantity of 
blood from the arm. On the fourth day of the journey, 
the wounded vein began to inflame, and the whole arm, 
probably irritated by travelling, swelled, and became ex- 
tremely painful. 

" June ftth. At Townsend, the patient walked some dis- 
tance to observe a lovely and picturesque view. The sun 
was just setting, and the whole air was perfumed with 
blossoms. He was so much exhilarated with this walk, that 
he forgot the fatigues of the ride, and the evening was spent 
cheerfully. The ride from Townsend to Keene, through an 
undulating and pleasing country, exhilarated his spirits, and 
notwithstanding the painful state of his arm, he enjoyed ev 
ery incident of the journey. At JafFrey, this day, June 5th 
he wrote the last letter he ever penned to his children 
[In consequence of the state of his arm, the writing is al 
most illegible.] 

" June 6th. At Keene, the Dr. entered into an animated po- 
litical discussion with a Democrat, who asserted that Judge 
Marshall had, in a certain case, exercised powers that were 
unconstitutional. The Dr. confined himself to a defence of 
Judge Marshall, and vindicated the powers of the judiciary, 
as the great bulwark of the Constitution, with great energy, 
power, and perspicuity of thought. At Walpole, where we 
dined, he met one who had been his pupil when he was tu- 
tor at Yale College. This meeting agitated him greatly, 
and his nervous spasms returned with violence. 

" His arm was now swelled to an alarming degree ; he 
could no longer ascend nor descend the steps of the car- 
riage without assistance. The ride, however, from Walpole 
to Putney, exhilarated his spirits, and he said, in reference to 
the varying and undulating character of the ground, with 
the shadows flitting over it, that it bore a striking resem- 



LAST JOURNEY AND ILLNESS. 469 

blance to the light and shade, the changing color, of our 
life. At Putney, there was a Justice's cause being argued 
at the inn where we rested, in which Dr. Buckminster took 
a strong interest, and attended to the close of the sitting. 

" June 1th. The next day being the Sabbath, it was spent 
in the beautiful little village of Putney. Our beloved pa- 
tient was calm, but extremely dejected. He was able, how- 
ever, to read the Scriptures, and pray in the family ; after 
which, the rest of the party attended church. In the after- 
noon, one of the party stating some objections to some passa- 
ges of Scripture, he smiled, and observed, mildly, that 'the 
gentleman was inclining to Socinianism.' During the night, 
he was extremely ill, and his arm so much swelled that he 
could not move it without assistance. 

" On Monday, June 8th, two physicians were called in at 
Brattleborough, but they prescribed only for the swelled 
arm. Notwithstanding the illness of their patient, the party 
proceeded that day to Whitney's in Marlborough. Here, 
while his wife took some repose, he sat by the window with 
a book in his hand ; he spent the afternoon in this position, 
in prayer, and repeating parts of the Psalms. Before he 
retired, he requested one of the party to pray, with as much 
humility and resignation as possible." 

Since the night at Putney, Dr. Buckminster seems 
to have been aware of his approaching dissolution, al- 
though, from the fear of distressing his wife and retard- 
ing the journey of his friends, he consented to go on, 
without expressing his own convictions of his extreme 
illness. His nights were usually without sleep, and spent 
in prayer. 

" Tuesday, June 9th. We left Whitney's, and rode to 
Hamilton's tavern to breakfast. Here our patient immedi- 
40 



470 LAST JOURNEY AND ILLNESS. 

ately lay down with extreme pain in the shoulder and 
breast ; afterwards, we continued the journey to Berchard's 
inn, to dine. Here a young lady, the daughter of the host, 
was wholly devoted to his comfort. Grateful for every 
kindness, he took leave of her with a tenderness and solem- 
nity that affected every one. This afternoon, we observed 
a striking change in his appearance ; although he continued 
to manifest the sweetest composure and an angelic patience, 
and not a complaint escaped him, yet his countenance was 
pale and sunken. He spoke little, but smiled frequently. 
He seemed to speak with effort, and the natural tone of his 
voice was gone. 

"In the afternoon, we passed a little road-side cottage, 
where we stopped a moment, and asked for a glass of water 
from a woman, who sat by the loom, weaving. She was 
one of those tender and feeling natures that are habitually 
prompted to deeds of mercy and kindness by their own 
hearts. Observing the pale and suffering countenance with- 
in the carriage, as soon as it had passed she felt constrained 
to follow it. She felt there was death in the. carriage, and 
she could not pursue her labors at the loom. Leaving her 
work, she followed on to the lonely and sequestered inn 
where the travellers had stopped for the night, and, by 
her presence of mind, her disinterested services, her calm 
and trusting piety, she proved an infinite comfort to the 
afflicted wife of the suffering patient. In this lonely inn, 
we were visited by a tremendous storm. During this con- 
flict of the elements, Dr. Buckminster was extremely agitat- 
ed. He sat supported in a chair, his voice feeble and hol- 
low, and uttered with touching pathos prayers for his friends 
and himself, humble confessions and petitions for the mercy 
of God. From this time his gloom wholly subsided. He 
was perfectly aware that his death was near. He remained 
perfectly tranquil, most of the time silent, but uttering oc- 
casionally whispered expressions of submission, faith, and 
k pe in the mercy of God." 



THE FATHER AND THE SON. 471 

[Some hours later, on the same evening, a thunder- 
storm was felt with terrific violence in Boston. Pros- 
trate with fever of the brain, in the fierce contention of 
life with death, lay the beloved son upon a couch oppo- 
site the windows, where the vivid flashes of lightning 
illuminated the whole room, and the sunken and pallid 
countenance, around which, in still, repressed agony, 
the friends were gathered. For many hours, no ray of 
reason had illumined those closed eyes ; but now, when 
one of his sisters arrived from Portsmouth, he opened 
his eyes, looked upon her, and smiled : this smile, al- 
ways so enchanting, was given to her as a treasure for 
the memory of after life. 

The thunder-storm passed away, the clouds rolled 
off, and the tranquil stars looked down into that cham- 
ber. There, too, the anguish and the agony had passed 
away, and that pale countenance lay in the inexpressibly 
sweet repose of death.] 

The night of the storm was passed by the little afflict- 
ed company of travellers, with their dying friend, in 
the retired and solitary inn of the village of Reedsbor- 
ough. He knew that he was dying, but his companions 
were not aware of his extreme illness, for the physician, 
who dwelt at the distance of nine miles, was not sent 
for that evening. Indeed, they all retired to rest, and 
Mrs. Buckminster, having been much fatigued and de- 
prived of sleep, was persuaded by her husband to retire 
for the night to another room. Mr. Bowles, the eldest 
of the gentlemen, was accommodated with a bed in the 
same room with their patient. The night was spent 
by him in prayer, but, with his habitual regard to the 
feelings of others, he repeatedly said to Mr. Bowles, that 
he hoped he did not speak so loud as to disturb his 



472 THE MYSTERIES OF DEATH. 

repose. The gentleman, who had been in early life a 
sea-captain, at length answered, that "he could remain 
undisturbed through the roughest weather, and had often 
slept under his preaching ; but ah, Sir," he added, u I 
cannot sleep under such prayers as these ! " 

When his wife entered his chamber the next morning, 
he said to her, with perfect composure, " My son Joseph 
is dead." Mrs. Buckminster, supposing that he had 
slept and dreamed that his son was dead, although no 
news of his illness had reached him, assured him that 
it was a dream. " No," he replied, " I have not slept 
nor dreamed ; he is dead ! " This incident is related 
as received from the lips of her to whom the words were 
spoken, and there can be no shadow of doubt of their 
truth. 

Although Dr. Buckminster proposed to rise and pro- 
ceed to Bennington, the smallest effort to move pro- 
duced faintness, and his wife, now much alarmed, sent 
immediately for the nearest physician. He dwelt at 
the distance of nine miles, and did not arrive till ten 
o'clock. 

In the mean time, although his countenance bore all 
the appearance of death, it w T as serene and tranquil. 
All nervous distress and all anxiety had passed away, 
and, in those last hours of his life, he enjoyed the full 
assurance of the goodness and loving kindness of his 
Saviour. But there was no exultation, no rapturous ex- 
pressions of the near approach of heaven. His princi- 
pal anxiety was to soothe and comfort his wife, who had 
now become fearfully conscious that his last moment 
was approaching. 

The following paragraph is from the journal of his 
young travelling companion : — 



DEATH OF DR. BUCKMINSTER. 473 

" The physician, who had been sent for previously, now 
entered the room. Before his arrival, Dr. Buckminster's 
symptoms had become extremely alarming, and his friends 
perceived with anguish that his death was fast approaching. 
He fixed his languid eyes upon the physician, and said, 
with some earnestness, ' I am in the hands of God ; all 
means are under his control, and must depend on his bless- 
ing. I have no expectation that anything can be done for 
me, but, for the sake of these friends, I will submit to your 
prescriptions.' The doctor proceeded to prepare some 
medicine, and said, ' if it did not relieve him, the event 
would be fatal.' ' Certainly,' said Dr. Buckminster, l that 
must follow.' Upon a stranger entering the room, he asked, 
eagerly, if it was a messenger from Boston, expecting, no 
doubt, to hear his son's death confirmed. Some one present 
asked him if he were resigned. He answered, ' I desire to 
be still, and await the will of God.' After a short time, 
one of his companions asked, 'if he had anything to im- 
part to his absent family.' Waiting some moments, he at- 
tempted to speak, but, his voice failing, he fervently pressed 
the hand of the person, and, lifting his eyes, he seemed to 
be in silent prayer for many moments, when his eyes closed, 
and he gently breathed away his departing soul." 

It was in less than twenty-four hours after the death of 
the son, that his father followed him to that eternal union 
which they both so fervently expected to enjoy. 

Dr. Buckminster was interred at Bennington, with 
appropriate funeral solemnities. The Rev. Mr. Marsh, 
of that place, preached, upon the occasion, from the 
words, u I will not leave you comfortless ; I will come 
unto you." 

On Friday, the 19th of June, his bereaved church 
and congregation, in Portsmouth, assembled to pay a 
tribute of respect to his memory. The pulpit and the 
40* 



474 FUNERAL SERVICES AT PORTSMOUTH AND BOSTON. 

galleries were hung with black, and an impressive dis- 
course was pronounced by Mr. Parker, of the South 
Church, from Acts xx. 24, — u But none of these 
move me," &c. A writer of the time remarks, that 
<£ the largest and most respectable audience that had 
ever been seen in that ancient town was present." 

The stone that was placed over the grave of Dr. 
Buckminster, in Bennington, Vermont, bears the follow- 
ing inscription, written, except the poetry, by his friend 
and brother in the ministry, Rev. D. Dana, D. D., of 
Newburyport : — 

" In memory of Rev. Joseph Buckminster, D. D., pastor 
of a church in Portsmouth, N. H., who died suddenly in 
this vicinity, while on a journey for his health, June 10th, 
1812, aged 61. 

" He was a fervent and devoted Christian, an eloquent 
and evangelical preacher, a faithful and indefatigable pastor, 
an affectionate son, brother, husband, father, and friend. 
His bereaved people have erected this memorial of his emi- 
nent worth and of their tender and respectful grief. 

" O ever honored, ever dear, adieu ! 

How many tender names are lost in you ! 
Keep safe, O tomb, thy precious, sacred trust, 
Till life divine awake this sleeping dust ! " 



At the funeral service in Brattle Street Church, on 
the afternoon of June 12th, in commemoration of the 
death of their pastor, Rev. Joseph Stevens Buckmin- 
ster, Dr. Kirkland, President of Harvard College, 
preached from Job xvi. 19, — "Thou destroyest the 
hope of man." The sermon was a touching and ap- 
propriate tribute to the memory of his friend. Dr. 



COMMEMORATIVE NOTICES OF MR. BUCKMINSTER. 475 

Kirkland was earnestly requested to give a copy for the 
press, but the urgent duties of his office prevented him 
from complying with the wishes of the parish and the 
friends of the departed. Many tributes to his memory 
appeared in the public journals of the day, and in the 
sermons of his brothers in the ministry. mongA others 
were two very beautiful notices of his character, writ- 
ten with the warmth of friendship, and the exact deline- 
ation of truth, which appeared in two successive num- 
bers of the General Repository, from the pen of its 
editor, Mr. Andrews Norton. They have been in- 
cluded in the edition of Buckminster's Works of 1839, 
and would also have enriched the pages of this volume, 
had it not swelled far beyond its original intention. 

Twelve years after his death, the Rev. John Gorham 
Palfrey, then the pastor of Brattle Street Church, pro- 
nounced the following beautiful eulogy upon his memory. 
After speaking of former pastors of the church, he 
says, — 

" Him I have heard and known ; and who, that has heard 
him, has not thenceforth found religion invested in his mind 
with a beauty unknown before ? He was, in truth, a singu- 
larly gifted man ; of a judgment discriminating, independ- 
ent, and exact ; of a fancy profuse of images of the grand 
and lovely ; of a various and accurate learning ; of a sen- 
sibility keenly alive to the importance of truth, and to the 
dangers and obligations of men ; of a pure and fervid zeal ; 
of a truly heavenly spirit. He was formed to interest men 
in religion, — to win them and attach them to it. No one 
could look on his intellectual beauty, — no one could hear 
the softest tone of his voice, — without loving the spirit that 
dwelt in the expression of both. He spoke to solemnize 



476 COMMEMORATIVE NOTICES OF MR. BUCKMINSTER. 

the levity of the young, and inform the wisdom of age ; 
to shake the sinner's purpose, and to bind up, in the softest 
balm of consolation, the wounds of the Christian heart. 
Those of us who have heard him, with a force and feeling 
all his own, plead the claims of our religion, describe its 
value, and disclose its hopes, may not expect, while we live, 
to witness anything approaching nearer to what we imagine 
of a prophet's or an angel's inspiration. He was one of 
those who seem appointed to the high and needful office of 
conciliating to religion the minds of intellectual and taste- 
ful men 

" Nor in regard alone to the services directly rendered 
by him to religion was this lamented man a benefactor. 
His mind was one of those that leave a broad impress on 
the character of the times. The weight of his influence, 
and the more powerful attraction of his example, gave an 
impulse to the cause of good learning, of which we are 
daily witnessing more and more brilliant consequences. 
But these were not the cares the nearest to his heart. 
Though followed by an admiration too enthusiastic for a 
man of less singleness of mind to bear, without being led 
astray from his appropriate work, here was the scene of his 
favorite labors, and here he reaped the most desired reward. 

Everything here reminds us of him At the table 

of Christian fellowship, I meet the disciples whom he led to 
that feast,* and his presence almost seems to be with us there. 
Already I find encouragement and friendship in those whose 
earliest remembered impressions of religion are associated 
with the pathos of his melting tones, the glory of his speak- 
ing eye. I stand by death-beds, cheered by happy hopes 
of immortality which he taught to glow, and witness the 
Christian patience of mourners, to whom he was the minister 

* See Appendix No. V. 



MONUMENT AT MOUNT AUBURN. 477 

of that lasting peace which the world cannot give nor take 
away. Happy servant of his God, who can leave such 
enduring memorials of so short a life ! who, long after the 
first burst of general distress at his early departure has 
been hushed, survives in the virtuous purposes of manhood, 
and the calm meditation of age ! Happy, whose epitaph is 
recorded in the religious dedication of so many grateful 
hearts ! There is no other distinction but is mean com- 
pared with such a glory ! And when, at last, he 

meets them above, can anything be wanting to the worth of 
his crown of rejoicing, when they remember, together, that 
it was by his agency that God made them associates for 
angels ? " * 

With these beautiful words I close the memoir of my 
brother, trusting that his memory may yet survive to en- 
courage and comfort many hearts. 

" One other name, with power endowed, 

To cheer and guide us onward as we press ; 
One other image on the heart bestowed, 
To dwell there, beautiful in holiness." 

June 12, 1842, exactly thirty years from the day of 
his funeral, through the surviving affection of the So- 
ciety of Brattle Street Church, his remains were re- 
moved from the tomb of Mr. Lyman, at Waltham, and 
placed beneath a chaste and beautiful monument of white 
marble, consecrated to his memory, in the cemetery of 
Mount Auburn. By the arrangement of the faithful 
memory of those who had witnessed the attachment of 
brother and sister, she who had watched over him in 

* From Rev. J. G. Palfrey's sermon, preached at the church in 
Brattle Square, July 18, 1824. 



-478 BROTHER AND SISTER. 

life was not divided from him in the sacred repose of 
one consecrated tomb. Their united memory is such 

" As hallows and makes pure all gentle hearts. 
His hope is treacherous only whose love dies 
With beauty, which is varying every hour ; 
But in chaste hearts, uninfluenced by the power 
Of outward change, there blooms a deathless flower, 
That breathes on earth the air of Paradise." 



APPENDIX 



No. I. 

There is some uncertainty about the original family name. 
It appears from the records of deeds in the Suffolk office, and 
in the registry of wills in the Probate office, that the first and 
second generations after coming to this country wrote the name 
Buckmaster. The Almanac and Prognosticator of Thomas Buck- 
minster, of the year 1599, now in the possession of the writer, has 
descended in the family from the day of its author, and proves that 
in the year of its publication the name was written as it is at present. 

Joseph Stevens Buckminster, when in England, took the trouble 
to search into the antiquity of the family name, and found that a 
coat of arms, " ' Argent, seme des fleurs de lis, a Lyon, rampant, 
sable," 1 was confirmed by Sir Gilbert Dethick, Garter king-at-arms, 
the 24 March, 1578, in the 21st year of Queen Elizabeth, to Wil- 
liam Buckminster, son and heir of Richard Buckminster, eldest 
son of John Buckminster of Peterborough, Northamptonshire, and 
to all the posterity of the said John Buckminster forever." — MSS. 
in Ashmole, No. 834, p. 20 ; Guillim's Heraldry, 6th ed., London, 
1724, p. 276. 

In the English records in Westminster, printed by the order of 
William IV., A. D. 1216, is the name of " Adam Bukeminstr" 
and " Robertum filium suum." It seems, therefore, that the 
name as it appears written in the Suffolk office is a corruption of 
the original name in England. 



4S0 APPENDIX. 

Xo. II. 
Sermons Published by Dr. Buckminster. 

1. A Discourse delivered December 11th, 1TS3, the Day of the 
General Thanksgiving throughout the United States after the Rat- 
ification of the Treaty of Peace and Acknowledgment of their In- 
dependence. Published by request. 

2. A Discourse delivered November 1, 1789, when the Presi- 
dent of the United States visited Portsmouth. 

3. A Sermon delivered February 27, 1794, at the Interment of 
Mrs. Porter of Rye. 

4. Two Discourses delivered February 28, 1796, upon the Duty 
of Republican Citizens in the Choice of their Rulers. " Dulce et 
decorum est pro patria mori." Published by request. 

5. A Discourse delivered at Hampton March 2d, 1796, a Day 
devoted by the Congregational Church in that Place to Fasting 
and Prayer. Being Remarks upon the Dispute and Separation of 
Paul and Barnabas. Published by Desire of the Hearers. 

6. A Discourse delivered in Portsmouth, November 15, 1798, 
on Thanksgiving Day. Published by request. 

7. A Sermon delivered in Portsmouth on the Lord's Day after 
the Melancholy Tidings of the Death of George Washington, the 
Father, Guardian, and Ornament of his Country. December, 1799. 

8. Two Sermons delivered in the First Church in Portsmouth 
January 5th, 1800, the House being shrouded in Mourning in To- 
ken of Respect to the Memory of General Washington. 

9. A Sermon preached to the United Congregational Churches 
in Portsmouth February 22d, 1800, the Day appointed by Con- 
gress to pay Respect to the Memory of Washington. Published 
by request. 

10. A Discourse delivered in Portsmouth December 14, 1800, 
the Anniversary of the Death of General Washington. " The 
memory of the just is blessed. r; 

11. A Discourse occasioned by the Desolating Fire in Ports- 
mouth, December, 1803. Published by request. 

12. A Discourse preached before the Portsmouth Female Char- 
itable School October 14, 1803. Published by request. 



APPENDIX. 481 

13. A Discourse delivered at the Ordination of Rev. J. S. Buck- 
minster to the Pastoral Charge of the Church in Brattle Street, 
Boston, December 30, 1805. 

14. A Discourse delivered at the Interment of Rev. Samuel 
Haven, D. D., and of his Wife, Mrs. Margaret Haven, who sur- 
vived her Husband but thirty-six hours, March 3d, 1806. "In 
their death they were not divided." 

15. Domestic Happiness. A Sermon delivered in Portsmouth 
February 23, 1803. Published by request of the Young Men of 
the Parish. 

16. A Discourse on Baptism, 1803. " Suffer little children and 
forbid them not to come to me ; for of such is the kingdom of 
heaven." — Jesus Christ. 

17. A Discourse upon Christian Charity, being the Conclusion 
of the Sermon upon Baptism, 1803. 

18. A Sermon delivered at the Installation of Rev. James Milti- 
more to the Charge of the Fourth Church in Newbury, April 27, 
1808. 

19. A Sermon delivered before the Female Charitable Society 
of Newburyport, May, 1809. Published at the request of the Man- 
agers. 

20. A Sermon preached at the Installation of Rev. James Thurs- 
ton in Manchester, N. H., May, 1809. 

21. A Sermon delivered at the Interment of Rev. Moses Hem- 
menway, D. D., Pastor of the First Church of Christ in Wells, 
Maine, 1811. 

22. Substance of three Discourses delivered in Park Street 
Church, Boston, August 11, 1811. "I am not ashamed of the 
gospel of Christ." — St. Paul. 

Beside the above-mentioned Sermons, Dr. Buckminster pub- 
lished a short memoir of Dr. Maclintock of Greenland, N. H. He 
was also one of the authors of the " Piscataqua River Prayer 
Book for the Use of Families," and a constant contributor to the 
pages of the " Piscataqua Missionary Magazine." 
41 



482 APPENDIX. 

No. III. 
Publications of Rev. Joseph Stevens Buckminster. 

During his life, he published only two sermons, viz. : — 

1. A Discourse delivered December 18, 1808, on the Lord's 
Day after the Public Funeral of Hon. James Sullivan, Governor of 
Massachusetts. 

2. A Discourse delivered at the Interment of Rev. William Em- 
erson, May, 1811. 

A Discourse pronounced before the Society of Phi Beta Kap- 
pa at Cambridge, August 31, 1809. Published in the Anthol- 
ogy- 

His contributions to periodical publications during his life were, 
as nearly as can be ascertained, as follows : — 

To the Literary Miscellany : — Review of Dr. Millar's Retro- 
spect of the Eighteenth Century, Vol. I., p. 82. Translation of an 
Idyl of Meleager, and of an Inscription to Somnus, Vol. I., pp. 196, 
197. 

To the Monthly Anthology and Review : — 

Review of the Salem Sallust, Vol. II. 549. 

Remarker, No. 5, on Criticism, Vol. III. 19. 

Review of Sherman on the Trinity, Vol. III. 249. 

Introduction to Retrospective Notices of American Literature, 
Vol. V. 54. 

Review of Logan's Version of Cato Major, Vol. V. 281, 340, 
391. 

Remarker, No. 34, on Gray's Poetry, Vol. V. 367. Defence of 
Gray, Vol. V. 484. 

Editor's Address to Vol. VI. 1. 

Description of the Fall of the Rossburg and Destruction of Gol- 
dau, first published in the Anthology. 

Sketch of French Literature and Science, published asa" Let- 
ter from Paris " in the Anthology. 

Review of Thompson's Septuagint, Vol. VII. 396. Continued, 
Vol. VIII. 193. 

Review of Griesbach's New Testament, Vol. X. 107. Con- 
tinued, p. 403. Notices of, Vols. V. and VI. 



APPENDIX. 483 

In the General Repository and Review : — 

On the Accuracy and Fidelity of Griesbach, Vol. I. 89. Con- 
tinued, 363. 

Translation of the Article PNEYMA in Schleusner's Lexicon, 
with Notes, Vol. I. 296. 

Review of Rev. W. Emerson's History of the First Church, 
Vol. I. 374, with the exception of the first paragraph, which was 
added by the editor, Mr. Andrews Norton. 

Mr. Buckminster published a Collection of Hymns " for the use 
of the Church in Brattle Street," 1808. 

Wellbeloved's Devotional Exercises for the Use of Young Per- 
sons, 1808. 

Zollikoffer's Sermons to Young Men. The last two at his own 
expense. 

The first selection of his sermons, consisting of twenty-four, in 
large octavo, was published in 1814, with a memoir by S. C. 
Thacher. It passed through three editions. 

The second selection, consisting of twenty-two sermons, octavo, 
was published in 1829. 

In 1839, James Munroe & Co. published " The Works of Jo- 
seph S. Buckminster, with Memoirs of his Life," two volumes, 
duodecimo. This edition includes Mr. Thacher's Memoir, and 
Notices of Mr. Buckminster by Mr. Norton, Mr. Charles Eliot, 
and Rev. Mr. Colman. It also includes extracts from sermons first 
published in the " Christian Disciple." 

At the commencement of the publication of the "Christian 
Disciple," the manuscript sermons of Mr. Buckminster were 
placed in the hands of its editors. Extracts were made from 
forty-four sermons, which were published in the successive numbers 
of that periodical. 



No. IV. 

Joseph S. Buckminster's library was sold, by printed cata- 
logue, at public auction, in August, 1812. Here are mentioned 
the editions of the Bible and Commentaries belonging to his li- 
brary, with their cost in Europe : — 



4S4 APPENDIX. 

Biblia Sacra Polyglotta Londinensia. Walton. Lond. 1657. 
And Lexicon Heptaglotton. Castell. Lond. 1669. [A fine 
copy, containing the famous dedication to Charles the Second, the 
very existence of which has been denied by bibliographers., See 
Gen. Repos., No. 2.] Price, $ 100. 

Biblia Hebraica. Cum variis lectionibus ex ingenti codicum co- 
pia a B. Kennicott & J. B. de Rossi collatorum. Doederlein & 
Meisner. Lipsiae. 1792. 4to. [Blue morocco. Largest and best 
paper.] $9. 

Biblia Hebraica. Ex edit. Athiae. 4to. [Imperfect. Inter- 
leaved, with some MS. notes.] 

Biblia Graeca. V.T. Graecum exversione LXX. Interpr. juxta 
exemplar Vaticanum. Lond. excud. Rog. Daniel. 1653. [A large 
paper copy in 4to. of Daniel's Septuagint, containing the Apoc- 
rypha and New Testament. Very rare and precious.] $ 10. 

Biblia Graeca LXX. Interp. ed. J. E. Grabe. Ex codice Alex- 
andrino. Oxon. 1707-9. 8 vols. 8vo. [The letter-press is 
exactly the same with that of the folio.] $ 20. 

Novum Testamentum Graecum J. J. Wetstenii. Amst. 1751. 
[Interleaved, in 4 vols, folio. Russia backs and edges, and per- 
fectly new. Cost in London, 1807, 9£. 12s. 6c?. sterling.] $ 50. 

Nov. Test. Graec. Griesbachii. Ed. 2da. Lond. & Hal. Sax. 
Vol. I. 1796. 11.1806. Royal 8 vo. Commonly called the Duke 
of Grafton's edition. 

Nov. Test. Graec. G. D. T. M. D. (a Gerhardo de Trajecto 
Mosae Doctore.) Editio altera. Amst. 1735. 8vo. [Common- 
ly called Curcellaeus's edition, though erroneously. It is in 8vo., 
and not in 12mo., as Dibdin (see p. lxix.) and others assert.] 

Poli Synopsis Criticorum. Francofurti ad Maenum. 1694. 5 
vols. 4to. [Much more convenient than the common folio ed.] 
S25. 

Grotii Opera Omn. Theologica. Amst. 1679. Do.Epistolae. 5 
vols. fol. [The first 3 vols, contain his commentary on the Old 
and New Testament. The 5th vol., containing his letters, may be 
sold separately.] $25. 

Clerici (i. e. Le Clerc's) Commentarius in V. T. 4 vols. fol. 
$30. 

Clerici Harmonia Evang. 1 vol. fol. Amst. 1710. 



APPENDIX. 485 

Clerici et Hammondi in N. T. Ed. 2da. Francof. 1714. 
2 vols. fol. [In all, 9 vols, folio, new.] 

Bibliotheca Fratrum Polonorum. Irenop. 1656. 9 vols. fol. 
[This set contains the 9th vol., which is very rarely to be met 
with. See Bp. Watson's catalogue of books in divinity for this and 
many of the large theological works here offered for sale.] $50. 

Houbigantii Notae Criticas cum ejusdem Prolegomenis juxta ex- 
emplar Parisiense denuo recusae. Francof. ad Maen. 1777. 2 vols. 
4to. [This work will supply the place of Houbigant's splendid 
Bible.] 

Kennicotti Dissertatio Generalis in V. T. fol. bds. Oxon. 
1780. $3. 

TrommiiConcordantiaeGrsecaeVersionis. Amst. 1718. 2 vols, 
folio. [Fine copy, uncut.] $ 15. 

Schmidii Tameion al. Concordantise Nov. Test. Graec. Witte- 
berg. 1638. folio. $10. 

Robertson Thesaurus, — sive Concord antiale Lexicon Hebraeo- 
Latinum Biblicum. Lond. 1680. 4to. 

Arnald's Critical Commentary on the Apocryphal Books, being 
a Continuation of Patrick and Lowth. Lond. 1744-52. folio. 
Scarce. 

Pocock's Theological Works, edited by Leon. Twells. Lond. 
1740. 2 vols. Containing his Porta Moris and Commentary on 
Hosea, Joel, Micah, and Malachi. 

Toinardi Harmonia Evangeliorum Graeco Latina. Parisiis. 
1707. fol. [For the value of this work, see Marsh's Michaelis, 
Vol. III., Pt. II., p. 41.] 

Whitby's Paraphrase and Commentary on the New Testament. 
Fifth ed. Lond. 1727. 2 vols. fol. $15. 

Beausobre et L'Enfant nouveau Testament. Nouvelle ed. cor- 
rige par les Auteurs. Amst. 1741. 2 vols. 4to. [This is the 
ed. opt. of this most excellent work.] $ 12. 

The New Test., Greek and English. London : Printed for J. 
Roberts. 1729. 2 vols. 8vo. [Large paper, very rare. Editor and 
translator unknown ; supposed to be Dr. Mace or Macey. See 
Dibdin, Introd., p. lxv.] $6. 

Wakefield's Translation of the New Testament. 2d ed. Lond. 
1795. 2 vols, royal 8vo. Large paper. $9. 



486 APPENDIX. 

Nov. Test. Gr. Nova versione Latina illustrata auctore H. A. 
Schott. Lips. 1805. 8vo. Bound in 2 vols. Russia. [Text 
Griesbach's, with the most important various readings under it, 
and various renderings under the Latin version ; " in usum Gym- 
nasiorum et Academiarum editum."] $6. 

La Sainte Bible. Expliquee par des Notes de Theologie et de 
Critique sur la Version ordinaire des Eglises Reformees, revue sur 
les Origineaux, &c., par David Martin. Amst. 1707. 2 vols. fol. 
$6. 

La Sainte Bible, ou V. et N. T., traduites par les Pasteurs et 
les Professeurs de Geneve. A Geneve. 1805. Last edition, cor- 
rected. 3 vols. 8vo. $ 7 50. 



No. V. 

During Mr. Buckminster's ministry of seven years and four 
months, two hundred and fifty-nine were baptized (one of them 
eighty-three years old), and eighty-eight persons were added to the 
church in Brattle Street. 



No. VI. 

Of the engravings prefixed to this volume, that of Dr. Buck- 
minster is the only portrait ever taken of him. It was painted at 
about the age of thirty-eight years. The general outline of the 
face and figure are correct ; but the face, at least to those who were 
intimately acquainted with him, is extremely deficient in the ele- 
vated, intellectual, and harmonious expression which belonged to 
the original. 

The younger portrait is an engraving by Edwin from the splen- 
did picture of Mr. Buckminster, painted by Gilbert Stuart only a 
few months before his death. It is one of his happiest efforts. 
Mr. Thacher observes of this picture, " Some of the most inter- 
esting traits, which are yet remembered with fond regret by his 
friends, it is perhaps beyond the reach of art to preserve." Many 
copies have been taken from it. The original picture is in the pos- 
session of George Lyman, Esq., Boston. 






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